


Whisper Chat

by ContreParry



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age II
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Anonymity, Chat rooms, Dungeons and Dragons, Gen, M/M, Masturbation, Romance, Slow Burn, Voice Kink
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-04-10
Updated: 2016-06-05
Packaged: 2018-06-01 08:51:19
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 22,353
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6511375
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ContreParry/pseuds/ContreParry
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Anders feels adrift in a new city, alone without family and friends, but has found solace in playing Dungeons and Dragons online. While he enjoys the company of all his new friends, Anders feels a special connection with his fellow player, <strong>Lyrium_Ghost</strong>.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Setting Off On A Quest

**Author's Note:**

> This is a fill for the Dragon Age Kink Meme, where the OP requested a Fenders relationship where...
> 
> "By day, they're co-workers/classmates/neighbors/friends of Hawke who hate each other's guts.  
> By night, they're best friends who play the same online game/chat/frequent the same message board and have no idea about their real identities.  
> A few months after meeting online, they decide to act on their mutual crushes and meet in person."
> 
> I may have taken some liberties with the prompt, but I've given it my best shot!

When Anders was a child, his favorite place in the entire world was the local game shop. No matter what town he lived in, no matter the foster family who took him in, Anders could rely on the game shop to be a peaceful refuge in the storm that was his life. He read fantasy books and did his homework, curled up in back rooms and among shelves. He would listen in on arguments like what would really happen if Superman fought Batman and why activating the warp drive to solve every problem in Star Trek _ruined_ the flow of the story. Even when he moved, the arguments stayed the same. Game shops never changed. 

Anders liked to watch people play table top games. He had a shoebox of discarded Magic cards that older players gave him from all the different shops he went to in all those different towns. Yes, he had ten “Forest” cards, but each came from a different shop and had a different store and towns all across England. He might not play Magic, never bothered to learn, but Anders liked collecting them as he grew up. He still had that shoebox, tucked up in a shelf in his closet, dusty but not forgotten, physical mementos of his traveling childhood and adolescence. 

As typical with his upbringing, Anders would settle into a new home with new rules and new people, and then he'd be torn away from it to start the cycle all over again. Sometimes his foster family couldn't manage his emotional outbursts and struggles, or the agency would claim they were a poor match. Sometimes the arrangement was only temporary, and ran its course. Once (and this one time Anders was grateful for it), he was pulled because of abuse. Bouncing from home to home taught Anders one thing- don't get attached to people. People weren't reliable. Places, however, were. 

Anders learned to be more at home in the back of his beloved game shops. He lurked in the back, listening in as frequent customers held Magic tournaments, Risk nights, film viewings, even dramatic fan fiction readings. When he got older, Anders participated in game nights. When Anders was at school or at his current home, he was quiet. He kept his head low. He behaved as best he could. But at the game shops Anders played, he joked, he _laughed_ and had fun. 

When Anders was thirteen, gangly, covered in spots, lonely, and awkward, he discovered Dungeons and Dragons. 

It required so little to play: A piece of paper, a pencil, and a bag of dice, all easily collected and carried from place to place. You needed other people to play, but you could play with anyone. Strangers, friends, anyone. You told stories, you had adventures, and all of it came to life within your head, in the heads of other players. Anders loved it, loved everything about it. He devoured the novels, played the video games, got into different groups so he could play every edition- the game helped him make friends wherever he was. It became a favorite hobby of his, telling stories and writing characters, exploring the new worlds and characters dungeon masters created. Anders loved it all. 

In school, Anders discovered a deep love for biology. He loved animals even more than he loved his game shops, and split most of his time between the shops and the animal clinics he volunteered at. When Anders kept himself busy and out of whatever home he happened to be staying in for the time, he didn't have to worry about pleasing people he would only disappoint. 

Anders decided he would study to be a veterinarian once he got out of foster care. Anders studied for his exams, he got top marks in everything, he won his scholarships, and he went to school the very moment he turned eighteen. Even while he studied, Anders blew off steam playing D&D, getting involved in local groups with his university. He played, he acted as Dungeon Master, he crafted a few home brews with his friends at college, and Anders enjoyed himself as he played and studied. 

Anders graduated (a few of his former foster families attended the ceremony) and moved into the city, taking a position as a veterinarian in an emergency clinic. So he still might be a bit lonely, Anders reflected as he sat in front of his computer screen late on a Friday night, his cat Ser Pounce-a-Lot snuggled up on the back of his chair. So he wasn't out partying or drinking at a bar, or going out on a date, but Anders had his own appointments. He sat down with a mug of tea and clicked a live stream, pulling his favorite fuzzy blue blanket around his shoulders as he settled in to watch a group of strangers play Dungeons and Dragons online. 

To be fair, they were all celebrities in their own right, a collection of gamers, performers, cosplayers, and developers all playing a table top game on the internet. Anders started watching because _Varric Tethras_ was the dungeon master. Tethras was legendary in D &D circles. He wrote “The Curse of the Deep Roads” and “The Haunted Gallows,” he was practically _god-like_. Anders made sure to stay up and watch those weekly streams, taking care to figure out time differences between New York City and Bath, England. Watching Varric Tethras DM was a treat Anders was not about to miss out on, time zones be damned! 

Anders didn't just watch for Tethras. He liked the players in the stream as well, players who lived around the world and played a weekly two hour game for the entertainment of thousands. There was the newbie Cullen, Varric's personal trainer, who was a human warrior. There was Varric's manager Cassandra, playing an elven paladin with a tragically romantic backstory. There was the intern Sera with a crazy tiefling rogue, and Dorian, a lawyer playing a flamboyant human sorcerer. Anders especially liked Evelyn Trevelyn, a cosplayer playing a half-elf sorceress with an army of cat familiars. Well, maybe Anders liked the army of cats the most, but he rather liked the mellow, fun-loving Trevelyn. She kept games lively with her choices. Occasionally her cat Pixel walked all over her keyboard as she played, which caused Anders and the rest of the chat to spam “awwwwww” as Evelyn tried to contain the little gray monster. 

“Wish I had some people to play with here.” Anders sighed as he reached back to scratch under Pounce's chin. The cat purred like a little motor and butted his giant orange head under Anders's palm. It had been so long since he had a chance to play. He had only just moved to Bath. He only just found a game shop to go to to purchase dice and figurines. He didn't have anyone _to_ play with yet. Watching these live streams would just have to do for now, Anders thought sadly, until he got involved in a new group and developed a play schedule. 

“Ms. Trevelyn, when did you start playing?” Cassandra asked in her heavily accented voice. Her voice echoed slightly in her microphone, or in the spacious office space kept as neat and sharp as her cheekbones. 

“Oh, when I was about thirteen. My parents packed me off to boarding school in Paris. All the girls in my dorm would stay up late and play.” The tiny woman smiled broadly, a riot of green plants and bright colors behind her at her own desk. “It was pretty fun!” 

“At a French boarding school? Seems unusual.” Varric commented, and Evelyn shrugged. 

“Maybe. We were an odd bunch.” Evelyn remarked, her dark eyes scanning her computer screen as she spoke. “Oh, we've got a good chat question! Mo'Moogles wants to know where they can play D&D, since none of their friends play in real life.” 

“Make more friends.” Cullen said flatly. His desk, much like Cassandra's, was neat and bare, his walls blank and white. He apparently was an English transplant who went across the ocean and now lived in New York City, where he met Tethras and Cassandra Pentaghast. 

“Find new friends, eh?” Sera snorted. There was noise in the background of her face-cam, something that sounded like loud laughter and the clinking of cups and plates, and Anders remembered that the girl rented out an apartment above a pub somewhere in Sussex. 

“Or follow our illustrious example.” Dorian interrupted. “And play online!” His office was spacious, bright, and surrounded by books. Dorian was a lawyer living in London. “Though, funny enough, when I was purchasing my coffee this morning-” 

“Dorian, no.” Evelyn groaned, burying her face into her hands. 

“I happened to run into someone most interesting!” Dorian said smugly. “Imagine my surprise, my utter shock, when I ran into our dear friend Evelyn!” 

“You shithead!” Sera shouted, her microphone crackling. “I wanted to meet Eve-y first! Jerk!” 

“Too late!” Dorian sounded positively filled with glee. “We had a lovely time, we planned many fun sorcerer times for all of us.” 

“Arse.” Sera grumbled. 

“Back to the question at hand.” Evelyn stated, turning the conversation away from where she lived. “Dorian has a great point. Playing online is how I met Varric, and that's why he brought me into this group!” 

Anders perked up at this statement. The idea that he could play online, that he could play a game of D&D with strangers and still have fun, still experience everything he liked, it appealed to Anders in so many ways. He wanted to try it. So when Evelyn continued to suggest places and sites that supported tabletop gaming and had friendly communities with loads of players, Anders scribbled them down on the back of an envelope and told himself he'd find a group of people to play with tomorrow evening, when his schedule was clear. 

-

Anders had a difficult day at work. There was a litter of sick kittens in his clinic that he had to hand feed and clean. A woman came in with her miniature poodle who ate several pairs of lacy underthings, and Anders had to make the poor thing vomit. He treated heartworm, bacterial infections, and quite a few shots for cats and dogs. Someone brought in a litter of huskies, and the little howls filled the clinic as Anders worked. It was a productive but exhausting day. Anders ached, from his feet to the base of his skull. There was a building pressure behind his eyes and against the bridge of his nose, and Anders was ready to collapse in his chair and search for a D&D group to play with. 

Anders entered his building, an old brick warehouse converted to apartments. His own flat was a tiny, one bedroom affair on the second floor. The walls were thin and the windows were drafty, but it got plenty of morning sun, was a bus ride away from work, and was very affordable. Anders normally took the stairs to reach his flat, but he was exhausted and stumbled into the lift, pressing the second floor button without a thought. He glanced to his right and almost groaned, but contained it. 

It was his neighbor. Arse, Anders thought uncharitably. 

Anders's neighbor was a sullen, dark-skinned man covered in tattoos, thin white lines that twisted around his arms, up his neck, and on his chin. The hair poking out from underneath his knit skullcap was thick, white, and probably dyed. Anders first thought the skinny arsehole thought he was some sort of gang-banger, playing tough, but Anders also noticed that the man's clothes were terribly simple. Practical. He dressed in all black and covered himself up even in the sweltering heat, but his neighbor was terribly neat in his own way. Today Anders's neighbor was wearing the black skullcap, dark jeans, and a black shirt with a dark gray hooded, zip-up jumper. He was wearing flip-flops, though, and Anders was shocked to see thin white tattoos swirling along his feet and toes. 

“Evening.” Anders muttered, aware that he was staring a bit too openly. 

The man grunted in return, and Anders was quiet for the rest of the ride. Anders felt the man's glare and almost shrunk into a corner as the lift slowly rose up to the second floor. As soon as the doors slid open the man stormed off the lift, stomping down the hall to his flat. He opened his door and slammed it shut behind him. The sound echoed behind him in the dimly lit hallway. Anders sighed in relief and stepped out of the lift. 

He didn't know what he did to offend his new neighbor so damn much, but the man hated his guts practically from day one. It was like he had just moved in and suddenly the man despised him. Anders never even exchanged words with him- all attempts at conversation were blocked by grunts and glares. Anders shuffled down the hall and unlocked his front door, entering his flat and locking the door behind him. Pounce meowed loudly and circled his legs in several tight loops, herding Anders to his empty food dish and crying piteously. 

“I've got you, boy.” Anders said, pulling out a tin of cat food. Pounce pawed at his scrub pants and mewed again. Anders opened the tin and spooned the food out into Pounce's dish, and the cat fell on the food like he was starving. Anders shook his head and sighed before fixing a mug of tea, heating his electric kettle and grabbing a peppermint tea bag before dumping it in his mug. Pounce ate his food greedily, making little smacking noises as he chewed down the canned fish. 

“I know you had enough food in your dish, Pounce. You're just a greedy little bastard.” Anders called out to the cat as he left the kitchen and headed down the hall to his room. His flat was tiny, a one-bedroom affair with a tiny water closet and a kitchen where he could stretch his arms out and touch the walls, but Anders liked the space. Rent was decent, it allowed pets, and it was in a safe part of town. Anders hung up a few pictures of his cat and had some plants that he rescued from different gardening stalls in grocery stores, all in an attempt to make the place feel like a home. It was hard to make a home when you never really had one before. Anders booted up his desktop and returned to his mug in the kitchen, pouring out the steaming water to brew his tea. Pounce yowled and followed Anders into his room, Anders clutching his mug in his hands, the warmth from the ceramic leeching into his palms. 

Anders took a deep breath and put down his tea mug before opening up He clicked on the first site Evelyn recommended and named his account after an old character he played, a hardass paladin possessing a mild-mannered sorcerer. He scanned the potential games and forum posts to find a game that looked interesting. While Anders was reading the posts Pounce jumped on the back of his chair and loomed over him. Anders reached up to scratch behind Pounce's ears. 

“Looks like there isn't much here.” Anders mumbled. There were posts on on-going games, discussion forums, character creation guides.... oh! There was one that just popped up, a request by a user named **The Storyteller**. They wanted to test a home-brew campaign, something like a Lovecraftian eldritch horror inspired detective story. New players welcome. Anders clicked on it and read the description. His interest piqued, Anders's finger hovered over the mouse button. Should he, or shouldn't he? It sounded interesting, but playing with all those strangers... but it wasn't like he'd be playing with any friends here, and it seemed pretty convenient with his schedule.... Anders typed in a response and whisper chatted the poster, **The Storyteller**. 

**Spirit_of_Justice** : uh, hi? 

**Spirit_of_Justice** : Saw your post, I'm interested. 

**The Storyteller** : Fantastic! First time player? 

**Spirit_of_Justice** : First time on this site. I've played for a while. 

**The Storyteller** : Good, good. I've got some other players interested. What do you play? 

**Spirit_of_Justice** : Usually sorcerers. Once I played a paladin, but I tend to focus on magic versus physical attacks. 

**The Storyteller** : Just what we need! Can you play around this time, once a week for a few hours? 

**Spirit_of_Justice** : Yes, barring any emergencies. 

**The Storyteller** : Come join us, we're chatting with mics. Introduce yourself. If you're interested, we'd be glad to have you as a player. 

**Spirit_of_Justice** : Thanks! I'll be glad to. 

-

Anders fixed his desktop settings so his mic worked, and logged into the room **The Storyteller** sent him. He managed to log in right in the middle of a conversation. 

“Hawke, there is absolutely no point in my playing. I've never played Dungeons and Dragons in my life.” A woman's voice said loudly. Her voice echoed through the mic. 

“Which is why you're perfect for this group!” A man replied. Hawke? “Give it a try, **Captain Marigold**.” 

“Ugh.” The woman, Marigold, sighed with a woosh of static. “Fine.” 

“Knew you would. Bethy and Carver will join in next week, so- hey, there's a new guy! Hey, new guy!” Hawke said enthusiastically. 

“Uh, hello?” Anders said, more of a question than a greeting. 

“Are you **Lord of Light** or **Spirit_of_Justice**?” Marigold asked. 

“Justice.” Anders confessed. 

“I'm Lord of Light.” Another voice, male with a Scottish accent, cut in. “Good to meet you.” 

“I heard there was a game here?” A husky female voice interrupted the greetings. “ **Luv_Pirate** , if you were wondering.” 

“Nice to meet you, Pirate.” Hawke said in a manner that could only be interpreted as suave. “Name's Hawke, screen name **FukkinDragons**.” 

“So, fucking dragons or _fucking_ dragons?” The woman purred out, but before another person logged into the room. 

“Hello? Oh, I hope I'm not late, I saw Isabela sign in so I thought I'd join the game! I'm not too late, am I?” A young woman's voice crackled over the chat. 

“No, you're fine.” Anders reassured the girl. “And you are?” 

“Me? Oh, I'm M- well, my screen name is **ForTheHallaIt**. It's a long story.” 

“Good to see you again, Kitten.” Pirate said warmly, affectionately, even. “How's Calcutta?” 

“Very warm!” The Halla girl enthused. “I bought a large sunhat to stop sunburns when I'm digging.” 

“A gardener, are you?” Lord of Light asked curiously. 

“Oh, no. I kill all the plants I touch. I overwater them! I'm an archeologist.” Halla said with a laugh that sounded like a waterfall. 

“The gardener would be me.” A new voice cut in, low and smooth and completely masculine. It was the kind of voice that made Anders want to melt into his seat. 

“Hey-a, Stranger.” Hawke teased. “Haven't heard from you in ages.” 

“Hawke.” The newcomer acknowledged with a faint sound of humor in his voice. “Perhaps I should find a new game to play?” 

“Nu-uh, Ghost!” Hawke crowed (and how appropriate was that, that a man named Hawke made bird sounds?) “You're stuck with us now until we figure out what the DM wants.” 

“That will certainly be a while.” Ghost retorted. 

Anders scanned over the names in the chat with six names (plus his own making seven), and tried to arrange everything he knew about these players before the names and voices overwhelmed him. He reached back to pet Pounce as he arranged everyone in his mind so he didn't accidentally mix a player up. He played in big groups before, of course, but that was always face to face. Anders didn't want to mix anyone up and make himself look like an idiot before he even started! 

**FukkinDragons** was male and went by Hawke. He was a bit loud and brash, but friendly. Hawke apparently was going to try and drag two other players, a Bethy and Carver, into the game next week if it happened to get started at all. 

**Captain Marigold** was a woman who clearly knew Hawke, possibly in real life. She's a newbie player and not very happy to be there. Probably the responsible type, Anders thought. 

**Lord of Light** was male, Scottish, and apparently a Zelazny fan if his screen name was anything to go by. He seemed polite, but pretty quiet. Anders wondered what sort of character he'd play. 

There was Anders himself of course, going by **Spirit_of_Justice**. Anders skipped to the next name. 

**Luv_Pirate** was a woman with a lovely voice and a flirty manner. Her name was Isabela, and she played before. She seemed nice enough, though she'd probably play a wild character in the game. 

**ForTheHallaIt** was a young woman, if her perkiness and high pitched voice was enough to go on. She was an archeologist living in Calcutta, her name started with an M, and she knew Isabela from another game. 

The last name lingered at the bottom of the screen. **Lyrium_Ghost**. He knew Hawke, played before, and was a gardener or something like it. And, Anders thought to himself, Ghost had the prettiest voice he ever heard. 

“This is a pretty big group.” Anders remarked in the silent chat. “Where's the DM?” 

“Eh, he said he'll be along shortly.” Hawke said. “So, how's it going, Justice? Newbie?” 

“Fine. And I've played before, just in person.” Anders confessed. “Do I need to play with a face cam? I don't have a high quality one.” Not to mention Anders was uncomfortable sharing his face with a group of internet strangers. A voice was one thing, but a face cam completely different. Maybe later, when he knew all the players and felt more comfortable sharing himself with complete strangers. 

“Nah.” Hawke said. “I will next time, if we're all committed to a game together.” 

“You just want to show off your beard.” Ghost muttered, drawing a laugh out of one of the women. Anders thought it was Marigold. 

“I'll be sure to use my face cam.” Isabela teased. “What about you, Kitten?” 

“The internet connection is iffy here, I won't always be able to. But I can try!” Halla replied. 

“Perhaps I will at some point.” Lord of Light said. “But I would prefer to see what the group is like before I do.” 

“If Hawke is using it, I'll have no choice.” Marigold muttered. 

“No.” Ghost said crisply. 

“I don't think I will.” Anders said, but added more hastily. “Unless I have to.” He somehow felt a little more at ease knowing others wouldn't use their web cams. He didn't want to be the only one, the odd man out. At least he and **Lyrium_Ghost** shared a desire for privacy, right? Anders felt as alone and awkward as he did growing up when he entered a brand new shop in a brand new town. 

“Do not let Hawke pester you.” Ghost said. “I refuse to use a camera, the game can be played without it.” 

“This looks like plenty of people.” A warm voice, male, American, said with a laugh. “I deleted the thread, seven players plus guests seems more than enough.” That voice sounded terribly familiar, but Anders knew he didn't know this man. He was sure of it! 

“Hey, Varric!” Hawke said enthusiastically. “Got Aveline with me, and Bethany and Carver are interested.” 

“Hawke, I told you not to say my name!” Marigold, no, _Aveline_ , hissed, but Anders was a little more distracted by the fact that Hawke said Varric, and now he knew who **The Storyteller** was. 

“Varric _Tethras_?” Anders managed to squeak out, and Varric laughed, low and hearty, obviously amused. 

“The one and only, Justice!” Varric said warmly. 

“Oh, Isabela! We get to play a game with Varric Tethras!” Halla enthused. 

“Exciting, isn't it?” Isabela replied, but Anders was a little preoccupied with the idea that Varric fucking Tethras was going to DM a game. A home brew game _he_ developed and wanted to see played! Anders hoped he could make a character that would be decent enough for the task. 

“Are you planning to release this game for the general market?” Lord of Light asked, and Varric laughed. 

“As soon as I get some kinks worked out. It's why I wanted a varied group of players. I want this to be challenging, but accessible. Fun for veterans and rookies alike.” 

“Then we will test your campaign.” Ghost said firmly, settling all questions at the moment. They were all quiet as Varric spoke, his voice warm like good whiskey. Anders settled into his chair, and Pounce jumped into his lap, purring all the while. Anders scratched at the the base of Pounce's neck and listened carefully to Varric. 

“The Horror of Portsmouth is a bit of a detective story, stuffed full of Lovecraftian tropes.” Varric began. 

“So tentacle monsters ahoy?” Isabela joked. 

“Perhaps.” Varric teased. “You'd have to play and see. But expect plenty of murders, mystery, and fog. Lots and lots of fog.” 

“Ugh, couldn't you set a story in a sunny meadow for once, Varric?” Hawke complained. “Always the caves and the marshes and the gloom and doom!” 

“Can't exactly hide treasure in a sunny meadow.” Anders piped in. 

“It sounds very exciting, Mr. Tethras!” Halla chirped. At least, it was a sound that sounded like a bird's cheerful call. “What do you need us to do?” 

“Mr. Tethras was my father, kiddo, Varric is just fine.” Varric responded with a chuckle. “And what I need is for all of you to read the basic premise, send me your character sheets, and I'll get to some editing before our first game. We meet next week at this time. I'll arrange for a chat for all of us on the site. Cameras are optional, microphones a must. Send me questions if you have them.” 

“Varric, I really think I shouldn't play in this game.” Aveline said firmly. “I have never played before, and shouldn't veteran players be the ones to test a game.” 

“Nope. Trust me when I say we need our rookies.” Varric said soothingly. “Maybe we can help you develop a character. What sort of character would you like to play?” 

“What sort of character can I play?” Aveline asked. 

“Plenty to choose from. Humans, elves, dwarves, orcs, halflings, anything in-between-” Hawke listed off the basic races quickly. 

“A bear.” Aveline said flatly. 

“A bear?” Hawke asked skeptically. “They don't have a _bear_ as a playable character race, Aveline-” 

“No, no.” Varric said with obvious amusement. “We can make it work. You can play a bear, Marigold.” 

“Marigold?” Aveline asked. 

“It's in your screen name. Marigold's a good nickname.” Varric said cheerfully. “You'll all get nicknames, soon enough.” 

“So it's decided.” Ghost stated. “We send you our characters and we play next week.” 

“Yes. So set up your cameras and whatever else you need.” Varric confirmed. “I have to log out right now, but contact me if you have questions.” 

Everyone made their own exits shortly afterwards, with quite a few remarks like “Can't wait to play!” and “What kind of character could I make?” Anders was just about to log off when a message from **Lyrium_Ghost** popped up in a private window. A whisper chat. 

**Lyrium_Ghost** : I meant what I said. You don't have to use a camera if it makes you uncomfortable. 

Anders sat back and read over the message several times before he responded. 

**Spirit_of_Justice** : I really appreciate it. You've played with this group before? 

**Lyrium_Ghost** : I have played with Hawke, Varric, and Hawke's brother, Carver. 

**Spirit_of_Justice** : so you have an idea of what kind of character would fit in the group? I'm a bit nervous. D: 

**Lyrium_Ghost** : Play what you are comfortable with. When Varric wants to test his stories he wants as much variety as possible. Hawke will probably play a dragonborn. I play warriors. If you're comfortable playing a magic user, I suggest that. 

**Spirit_of_Justice** : oh good, I always play magic users! :P :P :P 

**Lyrium_Ghost** : You will be just fine. 

**Spirit_of_Justice** : I look forward to playing with you, Ghost! 

**Lyrium_Ghost** : And I with you, Justice. I'll speak with you next week. 

**Lyrium_Ghost** has logged off. 

Anders logged off with a small smile on his face, his stressful day melting away at the prospect of a game and new friends. And Ghost was particularly friendly. What a voice! It wasn't as if his voice was deep, exactly, but strong, smooth. It rumbled through the microphone. There were plenty of things Anders would do for someone with a voice like that, and many of them were terribly x-rated. Anders laughed a bit helplessly at that- getting infatuated over someone's voice? How lonely and desperate was he? 

“God, Pounce, I'm pathetic.” He tried to laugh at the cat, but Pounce seemed to understand his inner turmoil and only made a sweet little mrrp sound before headbutting his hand. “It's Saturday night, and I'm talking to my cat.” Anders cuddled up with the cat and sighed. At least the game would be fun, and he'd make some friends here on a chat room, even though he didn't have any here in real life. Work might be stressful, his neighbor might hate him for no reason whatsoever, but at least Anders had his cat, a roof over his head, and something to amuse himself with. Anders glanced over to an old, worn down binder filled with character sheets. Maybe it was time to dust off one of his older characters and polish them up, Anders thought. It'd give him something to do over the week before next Saturday. With a smile Anders tugged out the binder and started to work.


	2. If There Are To Be Introductions

Anders looked over the email three times and grinned in satisfaction. Yes, he thought proudly. This would work perfectly. He sent the email to Varric (and he didn't know if he would get over the fact that he was going to play a game with Varric _Tethras_ ) and went over his character sheet one more time during his lunch break. 

“Dr. Majewski-” One of the other veterinarians entered Anders's office, a tall man with dark hair and darker eyes, with a scowl on his mouth and a furrow between his brows. 

“Just Anders, Nathaniel.” Anders replied. “What is it?” 

“The O litter is in for shots today.” Nathaniel Howe stated with his customary frown. “If you're done with your lunch break.” He eyed Anders's empty desk distastefully. “You ate lunch, I presume?” 

“Not hungry.” Anders said with a hand wave. “Big breakfast.” 

“If you refuse meals again I will tell Alistair.” Nathaniel threatened, crossing his leanly muscled arms, his impressive frown only growing more and more impressive as Anders avoided his gaze. 

“Please don't.” Anders shuddered at the thought of the heavily muscled Alistair Therin dragging him out of his office for a meal. He'd probably pick Anders up, fling him over one giant shoulder, and take him home, where his heavily pregnant wife would feed him a giant homemade meal until Anders popped. But that was just how Alistair _was_. He liked making sure everyone was comfortable, happy, and well-fed, and often made jokes while passing food around the office. 

“I won't if you eat something.” Nathaniel finally stated before exiting the room. “Eat and get over here, those kennel cough shots won't do themselves.” 

Anders rolled his eyes and grabbed an apple from his bag, chomping into the fruit with a few quick bites, then tossing the core into his wastebasket. He soaped up his hands and scrubbed with hot water, and reminded himself to get some hand lotion. The skin of his knuckles felt cracked and stretched too thin over his bones. Even if Anders was a bit of a shut in, he took pride in taking care of his appearance. He liked looking good, even when he only wore scrubs in varying patterns and colors. He smoothed his bright blue owl print top and exited his office. He hurried down the hall, dodging Alistair as he carried a giant of an English bulldog in his arms. The dog lazily lolled his tongue out and gave a pleased doggie grin as his stubby tail wagged about wildly. 

“Hey, Anders!” Alistair called out cheerfully. “Look at this precious baby!” 

“Alistair, you know I'm not a dog person-” Anders began, but Alistair ignored him and came closer. The dog wagged his tail even more fiercely. The dog leaned over and licked Anders's elbow with his wet, slobbery tongue. 

“Aw, he likes you!” Alistair cooed. “C'mon, big guy, we're getting your nails trimmed!” The dog let out a loud woof and Alistair laughed before taking the dog to the back. Anders shook his head and entered Nathaniel's office, where an older woman and man held a large box filled with puppies. The O litter, obviously. The mutts were yipping and fumbling around in the box, and Nathaniel was busy measuring out the vaccinations for the puppies. Anders picked up the file Nathaniel left out and scanned the information. Shelter dog gave birth to puppies, puppies needed shots before they could be adopted out, several families were already interested in adoption- but shots first. At least they had already been neutered, Anders thought as he set the file back down. 

“Afternoon, Mrs. Erwin, Mr. Erwin.” He said cheerfully. “How are you doing today?” 

-

It was another exhausting day, Anders thought as he stood in front of the fruit display of the grocery store. The fluorescent bulbs overhead shone bright, and the apples gleamed in the light. He shook his head and tried to clear his mind. Yes, he was tired, but he had work to do. Namely, Anders had to buy groceries. Lots of groceries. Anders hated being at the grocery store. He was tired and hungry and in no mood to buy anything, but he was already here. He grabbed a box of strawberries and dropped them in his basket, then considered buying a bag of spinach. Eat your greens, Anders thought glumly as he dropped the bag next to the strawberries. He continued to go through the vegetables and fruit, picking out what he needed from the selection available. He sighed and shuffled over to the bakery section. Maybe he'd grab a few breakfast rolls. Maybe more than just a breakfast roll, he added when his stomach rumbled. God, he was so hungry! He really should have eaten more than an apple this afternoon. Stupid Nathaniel. 

Anders had just been so invested in brushing the dust off an old character that he didn't have much of an appetite afterwards. At first he thought about resurrecting his sorcerer/paladin, Justice. He named his account after the character, after all, and it was fun to play as him. However, Anders eventually decided to strip Justice down and play something a bit simpler. Justice came from a home brew with special rules, and might not fit so well in a new game with strangers. So Anders reworked Justice, took him away and left the sorcerer, Leon, in his place. Leon for lion, because Anders was lame and always loved cats. Anders even kept Leon's abilities, though he toned down Leon's backstory. 

While the tragic tale of an imprisoned sorcerer in a tower in the middle of a lake who made a deal with the spiritual embodiment of an ideal was edgy and dark for a fifteen year old foster child, Anders felt it was a little too melodramatic now. He wanted to play a simple character for a fun game. So Leon/Justice, the possessed sorcerer turned paladin, turned into Leon the Healer, a simple man from a simple town who wanted to prove that magic wasn't just for flashy displays of power, but that it could be used for good. Leon liked cats and long walks in the forest, enjoyed collecting herbs and researching healing spells, and sometimes overindulged in flirting with the ladies and men he encountered on his journeys to become a great healer. The stats were rather average, though his constitution and intelligence were both 18. Hopefully Anders's character would fit in well with the rest of the group. He wondered what the other players would choose to play. 

Anders paid for his groceries and headed back to his flat. He entered the building and checked on his mail, piling the junk into one pile and putting important mail in another. Then there was one letter that wasn't addressed to him, though. He glanced at the name: Leto Darzi. Anders looked at the address, and groaned when he recognized his neighbor's flat number scrawled across the letter. How did this end up in his box? Anders rolled his eyes and resolved to hand it over the manager- but the building was closed. Maybe deal with it tomorrow? No, he'd just knock on his neighbor's door and hand it over. Yes. He could do that. Anders turned around and, well, speak of the devil and he shall appear. 

“Oh, uh, hi.” Anders mumbled, holding the letter out for his neighbor, Leto. “Yours?” 

Leto raised one dark, thick eyebrow, scowled impressively, and eyed Anders as if he was some sort of lesser being. He snatched the letter from Anders's hand with a grunt that might have been his way of saying thank you (or perhaps fuck off) before storming past Anders to get to his own box, ignoring him completely as he twisted the key and slammed the metal door open. Anders frowned and left the room, heading up the lift with his groceries and mail. 

Arse, Anders thought bitterly as he walked down the hall. He was just trying to be nice, and then that arse had to be a complete ungrateful _jerk_. He couldn't even stop and try to not be a giant dick for five minutes! He still had to be rude and ungrateful! Anders unlocked his flat and dumped the mail on the counter, steaming mad as he locked the door and put away his groceries. Fucking prick, Anders did _nothing_ wrong, he was trying to be helpful, and then this Leto asshole looks at him like he was dog shite- Anders growled and slammed the bag of spinach into the vegetable drawer. Arsehole! 

Pounce emerged from his perch on the windowsill and greeted him with eager mews, twining around Anders's legs and rolling about on the kitchen tile. Anders sighed, and with that sigh his cares and worries, his outrage and hurt feelings, melted away. 

“At least you're friendly.” He mumbled, reaching down to scratch behind Pounce's ears. Anders stumbled over to his tiny living room and sat on the floor, Pounce eagerly trotting at his heels. Anders reached over and grabbed a toy from Pounce's kitty basket, dangling the string and feather toy in front of Pounce. Pounce batted at the toy with his paws, and Anders laughed. His bad mood and hurt feelings suddenly felt very silly now as he played with his cat. He had friends, his coworkers liked him, and his cat loved him. 

And maybe he would make friends in the game. Anders wondered if anyone was on tonight. Maybe not to play, of course. But maybe someone would be willing to talk, if they happened to be on. Anders picked himself off the floor, and Pounce followed him, chasing the feathered string. Anders booted up his computer and logged into the chat room. 

**Spirit_of_Justice** : Hello? 

**Spirit_of_Justice** : Anyone there? 

No one answered, and Anders sighed. Well, it was a Wednesday evening, why would anyone be on here? Well, anyone besides him. Pounce stopped playing with the string and jumped up to his perch on the back of Anders's chair. Maybe he could just fix up his character sheet while waiting, or polish up the backstory, or even think up some different ideas for how Leon would react to a situation- 

**Lyrium_Ghost** : I did not think anyone else would be on here today. 

**Lyrium_Ghost** : Hello, Justice. 

Anders laughed a bit and returned to his keyboard to hastily type a response. 

**Spirit_of_Justice** : Hey, Ghost! How are you? 

**Lyrium_Ghost** : I am well. Tired. Long day at work. 

**Spirit_of_Justice** : Same. It was exhausting. Did you send in a character sheet to Varric? 

**Lyrium_Ghost** : Working on it right now, actually. Do you mind if we voice chat? 

Anders flushed. Ghost wanted to talk to him? Really talk to him? Oh. Oh my. Anders felt terribly nervous, but excited as well. It wasn't like it was a date or something, Anders scolded himself. Ghost was just a potential friend. A friend with a fantastic voice and a welcoming demeanor. Anders frantically tried to fix his audio to chat with the man. 

**Spirit_of_Justice** : Sure! Give me a second! 

Anders took a deep breath and tested the connection. “Hello? Is this working?” 

“Yes.” Ghost replied. “It is.” Ghost's voice was warm and sweet through the microphone. 

“Hey.” Anders responded. “I hope I'm not interrupting anything important, or something-” 

“No. I thought I would drop in and see if anyone was in the chat.” Ghost said. “And here you are. Have you sent your character to Varric?” 

“Yeah.” Anders said breathlessly. “Yeah, I did. I made a healer. Well, paladin turned healer. Vow of pacifism and all.” 

“Interesting.” Ghost said, and he _sounded_ interested. “We'll need one. Varric tends to put us all through the wringer when he's the DM.” 

“Oh yeah.” Anders laughed. “Don't know if you watch that stream he's been the DM of. The 'Child of the Mists' game? He just piles on the enemies. I thought I'd come prepared. So long as I don't die, I'll be around to patch people up. We'll probably need it.” 

“I helped test 'Child of the Mists' when he was writing it last year.” Ghost remarked. “It's how I met Varric and Hawke. Varric changed the game after we played it, so it's interesting to see the differences in the complete game.” 

“Really?” Anders was surprised. Anders ran into plenty of players who bragged about their prowess and battles, but it was rare to talk to someone like Ghost, who seemed to enjoy the different choices other players made. “How much did it change?” 

“One of their first encounters were three hags who wove shrouds out of hair. We ran into one who lived in a candy house and ate children.” Ghost replied. “So you watch them as well?” 

“Yeah. I like Evelyn's character, Deidre, and all her cats.” Anders laughed. “I've a soft spot for cats. Veterinarian and all.” 

“Hmmm.” Ghost hummed. “Never had one, though I've recently had a cat that keeps entering my flat.” 

“Really?” Anders would love to have that sort of problem. Then Pounce could have a cat friend keep him company when Anders worked late nights at the clinic. “Maybe they're a stray.” 

“He seems too well fed to be a stray. He sleeps on my bed.” Ghost said with what sounded like a laugh. “He's friendly, though I do not know how it manages to get in. I keep my windows and doors closed.” 

“Cats find a way. Seems like you're a cat owner now.” Anders chuckled. “Congratulations.” 

“I won't adopt someone else's pet, Justice. That's rude.” Ghost scolded in that vibrating voice of his. “I am content to let the cat visit as he wills.” 

“Generous of you.” Anders teased. Pounce jumped up on Anders's lap and began to purr contentedly. “So, how's your character coming along?” 

“I'm playing an older character of mine. Drow warrior, chaotic good.” Ghost stated. “And yes, I asked Varric if he'd allow it, and he said yes.” 

“Don't worry, I'm not a purist.” Anders assured Ghost. “I'm excited to see them in action. Varric seems like a good DM. The type to tell you to roll the dice instead of telling you no.” 

“He is tough but fair.” Ghost agreed. “And enjoyable. I'm going to roll for character traits now.” Anders heard shuffling sounds and the clink of dice. 

“Good luck.” Anders replied. There were several rolls in quick succession, and the faint scratching of pencil on paper. 

“Decent stats, for once.” Ghost remarked after a short silence. “Though my wisdom equals my strength. Might be useful, though.” 

“You can be a scholar warrior.” Anders suggested. Ghost's laughter filled the room. 

“Oh, yes, quite the scholar.” Ghost teased. “Quoting philosophy and searching for deep meanings while using a sword to kill goblins. Perhaps I can recite poetry.” 

“It can be a character quirk!” Anders replied. “Everyone has quirks!” 

“Quirks, hmm? What sort of quirks does your character have, Justice?” Ghost asked. Anders wondered if Ghost was flirting with him. It was hard to tell, mostly because Anders often confused friendliness and flirtation and mixed them all up and together- he turned Nathaniel down for lunch when it turned out Nathaniel was only being a friend, and accepted a tattoo artist's invitation to a bar that turned into a request for a threesome. A request that Anders turned down, despite the man and his boyfriend being incredibly attractive and available men. Anders had been going through a dry spell for ages, but he had his hand and a collection of toys to work off his urges. Regardless, Anders was not good with interpersonal relations, something that he put down to his roaming childhood. 

“Oh, maybe I should wait for the first game. It wouldn't be fair to the others if you had a sneak peek.” Anders joked. It could be taken as flirting, but it could also just be a friendly statement. Safer that way, Anders thought. If he was completely wrong and Ghost wasn't flirting with him, then he'd be safe and wouldn't ruin a blooming friendship. 

“That is fair.” Ghost said. “I'm curious about playing a pacifist character. Have you done that before?” 

“Yeah. It can be hard.” Anders confessed. “Especially depending on group dynamics. But I figure that this is a game where I can play him without serious problems.” 

“Have you had issues in the past?” Ghost asked. 

“Oh, the usual problems.” Anders responded casually. “You always run into a bad DM or a few bad players. Or _that_ guy. The one who steals everything from the party because it's funny, you know?” 

“Yes, I know.” Ghost replied. “I completely expected Hawke to be _that guy_. It was a pleasant surprise to discover that he's an excellent player. A bit eccentric, but fun to play with.” 

“Everyone seems that way. I'm really excited to play with all of you.” Anders confessed. “I'm really looking forward to-” A loud rumbling interrupted him, and Anders realized just how hungry he was. 

It was silent on Ghost's end. “Was that... your stomach?” Ghost asked cautiously. 

“Shut up.” Anders muttered, his face hot with embarrassment. Ghost began to chuckle. 

“It sounded like an angry bear. Do you live with angry bears?” He teased. 

“I just didn't eat a lot today, I'm a big guy!” Anders protested. “Tall, I mean. I need calories!” 

“Go eat, Justice.” Ghost cajoled. “Before your stomach eats you.” 

“Fine, fine!” Anders grumbled. “I'll.... I'll see you on Saturday, right?” 

“If you're watching the stream on Friday, we can chat to each other. Watch the game together.” Ghost suggested, and Anders wondered if the hopeful tone in Ghost's voice was just his imagination. 

“Provide snide commentary?” Anders asked. 

“If you have nothing else to do.” Ghost said. “I wouldn't assume-” 

“No, that sounds... it sounds nice, Ghost.” Anders said quietly. It _did_ sound nice, a simple evening in with a friend. Anders wanted that, wanted that easy companionship. “So, Friday?” 

“Friday.” Ghost confirmed. “Go eat, Justice.” 

“Bye, Ghost.” Anders replied, and exited the chat. He smiled and leaned back in his seat. Pounce thwacked his tail against the side of Anders's face and meowed loudly. 

“I've made a friend, Pounce.” Anders said to the cat. “Isn't that a surprise? Not really good at that, making friends.” It was another remnant of his migratory childhood, Anders knew. He learned not to get attached. It was hard for him to keep relationships going when he knew they'd only be torn up as soon as he had to move away. But Ghost was, much like his screen name, someone without a physical presence. All Anders needed was an internet connection, and Ghost would be there to talk to, to joke with, to be a friend. The thought twas terribly appealing. 

“C'mon, Pounce. Let's eat.” Anders addressed his cat as he stood up from his desk. He was terribly hungry, and his stomach did sound akin to a wild animal. He stretched and stumbled over to the kitchen to prepare something to eat for a late dinner. He couldn't wait for Friday. 

-

“Really, you should come to dinner tonight!” Alistair said loudly as he wiped down the table in anticipation for his next patient. “Ellie's invited Zevran and his boyfriend, and she also invited Morrigan, and I really don't want to be alone with all of them whenever Ellie has to go to the bathroom! Which she does a lot, by the way. Since, you know, she's pregnant.” 

“Alistair, I'm not going to protect you from your wife's friends.” Anders repeated for what felt like the hundredth time. “And I already told you, I have plans.” 

“What sort of plans?” Nathaniel asked, poking his head into Alistair's office. “And Fuzzy Mittens is back for her yearly check up, Anders.” 

“Oh, joy.” Anders groaned. Fuzzy Mittens was a show cat, an irritable Persian who behaved like a prissy princess. Her owner was just as irritating. Anders expected the appointment to be an ordeal that tried his patience and his will to live. 

“No use complaining.” Nathaniel said with his customary frown. “And what are your plans?” 

“Hanging out with a friend. Planning to watch a movie.” Anders lied easily, though to be more accurate he was merely stretching the truth. He was going to hang out with a new friend, Ghost, and watch a live stream. It was close enough, right? Nathaniel clearly did not believe him, if his arched eyebrow and deep-set frown were anything to go by. 

“A friend.” He stated. “Weren't you complaining about the lack of sex and companionship only a week ago?” Anders winced as Alistair laughed, the sound vibrating through his office. 

“So maybe things changed!” Anders said defensively. “I'll have you know that I'm charming!” 

“A blight and a nuisance is more like it.” Nathaniel muttered, but Alistair interrupted him. 

“I think it's nice that you've found someone, Anders!” Alistair said warmly. “We'd love to meet them someday!” 

“He's just a friend!” Anders protested but it seemed a futile act, especially when he was pretty sure he wouldn't turn down sex with Ghost if the opportunity ever came up. Anders knew he was easy- a few kind words and one attractive trait and Anders would drop his pants in an instant. How embarrassing was that? He'd probably even sleep with his neighbor, Leto, if the opportunity came up. Hate sex was pretty hot, after all. 

“If we're all done discussing my sex life,” Anders sniffed disapprovingly as he walked away, “I have a cat to look in on.” 

“Enjoy!” Alistair called out. “Bring your friend around sometime!” 

Anders gave them a rude gesture before the door slammed shut behind him, and only felt a little guilty over his childish behavior. Really, he was acting like a petulant teenager instead of a full grown man. But he felt a little sensitive about Ghost. He was an acquaintance, really, but he went out of his way to say hello, to make Anders feel included. Ghost was _funny_ and interesting to talk to, and Anders craved more conversations with him. Then there was Ghost's voice, rich and calm with a bite like dark chocolate, sharp but sweet. It did things to him, vibrated through the computer speakers and filled the room until Anders wanted to do nothing more but curl up and listen to the man talk. He could read a phone book and capture and retain Anders's attention. 

He didn't know Ghost, though, not really. He was just an acquaintance on the internet. He didn't even know his real name! Anders sighed and straightened his scrubs, a deep pink patterned with cats twining their tails together. Pull yourself together Anders, he scolded himself. He needed to clear his head and get back to work. He could worry about Ghost and his failure to not get attached to people who were nice to him. Anders entered his office and smiled at the elderly women holding a cage. The creature inside the cage was hissing, and Anders knew it was Fuzzy Mittens. 

“Hello, Mrs. Schwartz, let me help you with that.” He said warmly, already anticipating the scratches he'd receive from the Persian cat. 

-

Anders dragged himself into his chair in front of his computer with a glass of water in hand. He was tired. Exhausted. Fuzzy Mittens had claws and sharp teeth, and Anders felt both as he poked and prodded and declared the dear show girl pregnant with a litter of kittens. Mrs. Schwartz was delighted, and demanded Anders's expertise for when the kittens arrived. Anders could only hope the kittens weren't as irritable as the mother. Anders booted up the computer and logged onto the chat room before opening a new window for the stream. A few moments Ghost sent a request to chat, which Anders instantly accepted. 

“You're early.” Ghost remarked. Anders laughed, exhaustion melting away with Ghost's dry remark. He couldn't help but smile. He never had a friend like that before, someone who could make him smile with just a few words. 

“So are you!” Anders teased. “Were you waiting for me?” 

“Perhaps.” Ghost said, and Anders wondered if the man was smirking. It sounded like it. “I may have rushed home to avoid running into my neighbor again.” 

“Oh? Problems?” Anders asked. “Not on good terms?” 

“It would be... awkward.” Ghost confessed. “The walls are thin. He can be... loud.” 

“Loud in a-” Anders whistled lowly. “Oh. Like _that_.” Well that would be awkward, if your neighbor was keeping you up at all hours having wild sex. Anders couldn't help but feel a bit jealous of this anonymous neighbor of Ghost's. At least _he_ was getting laid. Anders had to make do with his hand and a toy or two from his collection. 

“He is vocal. It is hard to even say hello after... well...” Ghost mumbled. “May we speak of something else?” 

“Of course.” Anders replied, a blush staining his face. “So, uh, how was your day?” 

“Exhausting. Planted saplings at an estate.” Ghost sighed loudly. “Trained a pear sapling against a wall. Then I went to another home to graft a plum branch to a peach tree. Then I had to transport koi to a new pond. So I hurried home, showered, and turned on my computer.” 

“Did you eat?” Anders asked. He had no idea what half of what Ghost said meant, but the man was so weary sounding that Anders felt a sort of sympathetic exhaustion for him. 

“Did you?” Ghost returned the question. 

“I was going to heat something up.” Anders mumbled. There were leftovers in the fridge, it'd be easy to get something for his stomach. But then he'd have to leave Ghost hanging, and the stream had just started up, the chat going wild in the sidebar. “But maybe I shouldn't.” 

“If you get something, then I will as well.” Ghost offered. “Go eat.” 

“I'll be back in five minutes.” Anders said as he stood up from his chair. It wouldn't take more than five minutes to heat up leftover Chinese, right? 

“I'll speak with you then.” Ghost promised, and Anders rushed out of the room. He was right in his estimate that the leftovers would heat up quickly, but did not think that Pounce would delay him. But Pounce sat on the counter and wailed loudly until Anders checked his food and gave him fresh water. Pounce contentedly ate and Anders rushed back to his room, steaming leftovers in hand. Half the food was lukewarm and half burning, but Anders didn't particularly care. 

“Ghost? I'm back.” Anders called out. He set the food down on his desk and hopped into his chair. The stream hadn't started yet, though the “loading” screen (a cute animation done by Sera of a goblin running across the screen) was playing. 

“Ah. That was fast.” Ghost remarked. 

“You got something too, right?” Anders asked. 

“Yes.” Ghost responded. “Instant oatmeal. Apple and cinnamon” 

“I heated up Chinese. Vegetable stir fry.” Anders added. “But my cat was a bit demanding and I had to give him more water.” 

“I had another cat visit this morning before I left. Do they normally hunt bugs?” Ghost asked. 

“Yes. They are predators.” Anders said. “I'm surprised you had another visit, the cat must like you!” 

“My visitor ate a moth. Is that healthy?” Ghost asked, and he sounded very worried. Anders couldn't help but think it was terribly sweet. 

“If he didn't vomit it's probably fine.” Anders consoled the man. “You'll make a good pet owner someday, Ghost.” 

“Perhaps. The stream is starting.” Ghost said, and the two quieted as six screens popped up to replace the running animation. Varric took up center screen, his collared shirt unbuttoned and chest hair practically gleaming. He gave the camera a broad smile and quickly introduced the players one by one. Cullen looked exhausted but happy, his curly hair combed back but falling in waves. Cassandra was as stern faced and properly attired as always, giving a curt nod to the camera. Sera was dressed in what had to be pajamas, and she was wrapped up in a giant floral comforter like a burrito. Dorian was immaculately dressed and groomed, leaning back in his seat and smirking widely. Evelyn perched at the edge of her chair and grinned broadly at her camera, her dark eyes gleaming with humor. 

“Before we start, I have to show the viewers something special!” Evelyn said, and she reached up to her screen. It jolted around for a moment, and Anders (and the thousand or so viewers tuning in) viewed Evelyn's neatly organized craft room/office before it focused on a cramped spot filled with wires, where Evelyn's cat, Pixel, was lounging. Anders cooed and quickly typed out “what a precious sweetie! jelly bean toes!” on the chat that was whizzing by. 

“Pixel was being so cute today, I had to share!” Evelyn gushed. “Sorry, please continue, Varric.” 

“If we're sharing pets, Pup is currently trying to sit on my lap.” Cullen grumbled. “No, stay down!” The large gray head of some enormous beast of a dog came up and attempted to lick Cullen's face. 

“If we're done with the Animal Planet section of the stream, we'll begin the game.” Varric teased, his voice warm and bright in the speakers. “Now, last week, Delmar the Paladin, Zasu the Thief, and Aiden the Warrior were sneaking through the underground passages of the Gallows to rescue their two sorcerer companions, Oscar and Deidre. Meanwhile Oscar and Deidre have discovered that the ruler of the city was slain and the city was in the hands of the mad Knight Commander Merelyn, and were being lead through the cells by a strange boy made of shadows. Now, Cullen, you said Aiden _recognized_ the name of the commander, so we'll pick up right there-” 

“Ohhh, creepy.” Anders murmured. “Think he worked for her?” 

“Worked for a mad woman to persecute mages?” Ghost asked, his voice also quiet. “Possibly. Cullen has played Aiden as a bit suspicious of magic.” 

“True. I'm really impressed, he's done a good job keeping in character.” Anders stated. “Especially since it's his first time playing.” 

Cullen explained the connection between Aiden the warrior and Knight Commander Merelyn (his former boss and lover) and how they parted ways (Cullen was expelled from their order for weakness of spirit, or his refusal to turn in a sorcerer to the Gallows, a prison for mages). Delmar declared that the Gallows would be torn down to its foundations, Zasu picked several locks and laid a few traps, and Oscar and Deidre debated the merits of following a mystery guide or staying in a cell where it was safe. Throughout the game, Anders and Ghost joked with each other. 

“So, any major differences so far?” Anders asked as they watched the players play. Cassandra rolled a 5 for insight and couldn't remember the backstory behind a particular elven symbol on the walls in the Gallows, Dorian was attacked by bats but rolled a sixteen in combat and defeated the creatures. 

“We didn't have a party split in our game.” Ghost remarked. “But then again, no one played a sorcerer. Varric used an NPC.” 

“I'm a bit nervous for the game tomorrow.” Anders said quietly. “Varric's pushing them hard. How bad will he torture us?” 

“Not too bad.” Ghost reassured Anders. “He wants to test his game, not torture the players.” 

The game ended after two hours. Dorian and Evelyn escaped their cells and were searching the other ones, Cullen, Cassandra, and Sera were still above ground sneaking around the Knight Commander's defenses, and it was becoming obviously clear that something was very, very wrong with the Gallows. 

“Wow. I wonder what's going to happen next week.” Anders murmured. 

“Are you asking for spoilers?” Ghost questioned. He had to be smiling. Anders could hear it in his voice. 

“No!” Anders said loudly. “No spoilers!” He laughed though, because he knew Ghost wouldn't spoil things for him. He was a decent guy, a fun person to talk to. Anders curled up in his chair and tugged his blanket around his shoulders. 

“Then I will not tell you any more.” Ghost retorted. At that moment Pounce walked over the keyboard and meowed. Anders picked him up and placed him on his lap. Pounce settled down immediately and began to purr. 

“Sorry, that was my cat.” Anders said quickly. Ghost snorted. 

“It wasn't you?” Ghost asked sarcastically. 

“Nah, those aren't the sort of noises I make.” Anders replied. When Ghost went silent on the other end Anders realized just what he said . “I didn't mean it like that, oh God I'm so sorry!” 

“I know you didn't.” Ghost mumbled. Anders was still flushed with embarrassment. They were _just_ talking about sex and sex noises, so of _course_ Anders would say something awkward in front of his new friend. Great way to ruin a date, Anders. A friend date. Fuck. 

“I'm really sorry, Ghost.” Anders replied softly. God, this was the worst. “I'm sure the last thing you wanted to think about was me and, uh, that.” 

“You have a pleasant voice and an appealing manner.” Ghost said, his voice nearly a whisper. “If I knew you better, or in person... but that isn't... that is, I mean-” 

“Ghost, it's okay.” Anders replied. “I'm just the worst. Can we forget that I'm so awkward?” 

“If that will make you more comfortable.” Ghost finally said after a long, awkward silence. “Then I won't mention it again.” Anders sighed in relief. 

“Oh, good. Friends?” Anders asked. 

“Friends.” There was another pause, then Ghost added a sly remark. “Is it possible to get you to make cat sounds?” 

“Maybe when I'm at work.” Anders confessed sheepishly. “I might meow then.” 

“That's... rather sweet. In a strange way.” Ghost said. “I can imagine it now. A cat coming in for shots, and the mad human meowing at them.” 

Anders laughed. “You keep imagining that, Ghost. I'll see you tomorrow?” 

“Yes. I look forward to it, Justice. Good night.” Ghost cut off the chat, and Anders logged out with a broad smile on his face. He grinned at Pounce and scratched at his ear. 

“Ghost's alright, isn't he, Pounce?” Anders asked, and Pounce meowed loudly in response. “Hope we don't scare him off.” Ghost was funny and smart and wanted to talk for Anders for some reason, so he could only hope that he wouldn't mess this up. Ghost even thought he was appealing! That his voice sounded nice! _He's just a friend, Anders, don't get attached_ he reminded himself, but Anders was always a bit of an optimist at heart. He hoped his lack of social skills wouldn't completely put Ghost off. All Anders had to do was remember that Ghost was a friend and that it was a very, very bad idea to get attached to an anonymous person on the internet. 

Anders was always attracted to bad ideas.


	3. It Was A Dark and Stormy Night

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A game of Dungeons and Dragons is played.

“So, some rules for the game.” Varric addressed them all with his customary grin. “If the dice falls on the floor you're allowed a re-roll. We're all honest folk here, so don't try to lie about your rolls.” 

“Like we could get away with it.” A young man muttered. He sat next to a giant bearded man and a stern red-haired woman. They sat around a table together, all together on one screen. The bearded man was Hawke, the red head Aveline, and the young man Hawke's younger brother. Anders wondered what was in the water where they lived. All three of them were massive, and Anders wasn't a small man. 

“Oh hush, Puffball.” Hawke retorted, elbowing his brother in the side. The young man blushed fiercely and kept his mouth shut. 

“What are the other rules, Varric?” A tiny woman with large green eyes and pale skin asked. Anders recognized the voice as as **ForTheHallaIt**. “There are other rules, right?” 

“Of course, Daisy.” Varric replied easily. “I'd like to remind everyone that this is a test of a game. We're here to have fun, but I need feedback. Feel free to criticize and give suggestions. I know that **Lord of Light** has plenty of suggestions for the game already.” 

“Sorry.” **Lord of Light** 's strong Scottish burr swooshed through the speakers. He did not have his camera on, and instead he had a hastily drawn sketch of a scraggily dog as his icon. It looked like some mix of Irish Wolfhound and mutt, shaggy and tough with a torn ear. 

“Lovecraft is my guilty pleasure.” He confessed. “I may have gotten a bit _too_ excited when I learned about the themes in this game.” 

“Glad to have your enthusiasm, Choir Boy.” Varric chuckled. 

“Choir Boy?” **Lord of Light** sounded slightly alarmed. “How did you-” 

“Your character's a paladin, I thought it fit.” Varric said with a hand wave. “Next rule, don't be a dick.” 

The gorgeous dark-haired, busty woman with a gold nose piercing laughed loudly. “A little hard for some of us, handsome.” She teased. This was Isabela, or **LuvPirate** , and Anders was stunned by both her beauty and her confidence. 

“Do what you can, it's harder to play a game when the players are up their own asses.” Varric remarked. “On that same vein, don't be _that_ player. No stealing from party members, we're all adults here-” 

“Some of us more than others.” That was Ghost, as dry and sarcastic as always. His icon was a photograph of an old tree on the edge of a misty river bank. Hawke gave the camera a dirty look. 

“I am a fully fledged, card carrying adult, Ghost!” Hawke protested before he was jabbed in the stomach by his brother. “Jesus Christ! That fucking hurt, Carver!” 

“You deserved it.” Carver sniffed. 

“What other rules are there, Varric?” Aveline asked, ignoring the two bickering men at her side. 

“Don't be afraid to try something and get involved in the game.” Varric said with a bit of a flourish. “Any questions? Comments? Unsolicited testimonials?” 

“Should we message you with ideas or just say them?” Anders asked. He felt a little nervous as he took everything in. He wrapped a blanket tighter around his shoulders and sipped on his mug of tea. 

“Message me so I don't forget what they are.” Varric stated. “Does everyone have their dice and character sheets?” 

“Oh, hold on a moment!” Halla exclaimed before stumbling out of her seat. She was in some hotel room, Anders noticed. The curtains were drawn and the lighting dim. Halla rustled through a bag and tugged out a few folded pieces of paper. “Here we are! I even brought a pencil with an eraser this time!” 

“Oh, Merrill. Are you all organized, Kitten?” Isabela asked. 

“Yes. I'm ready!” Halla- no, _Merrill_ , sat back down and grinned, her short dark hair falling into her face. 

“Then we'll begin.” Varric said before sitting back. His voice became low and husky, and Anders shivered. It was the sort of voice that a storyteller used in front of a roaring fire on a chilly night, and Anders huddled closer to the computer. 

“It is a dark, cold night in the village of Portsmouth, a minor trading hub nestled between the coast and the mountains. Mist rolls off both the sea and down from the snow-capped mountain range, and hangs over the town like a heavy wool cloak. The sensible people of Portsmouth are in their homes when the shadows lengthen as the sun sets, and the less sensible ones hurry inside once the sun sinks below the horizon.” Varric said, and Anders hung on every word. Varric was more than just a brilliant writer, Anders thought as Varric spun out the setting with his voice. He was a _magnificent_ storyteller. 

“Our story begins in The Tavern of Two Fools, a pub and inn that has seen better days, but still holds hope for the return of good fortune.” Varric continued. “Patrons cram in the common room, warming up in front of the roaring fire, relaxing from a hard day on the docks. Our party is all gathered in the tavern, forced together at the same corner table due to the lack of space. I'll take this moment for everyone to introduce their characters and tell us a little about them. We'll start with.... Hawke, why don't you start?” 

“Awesome!” Hawke cheered, his face breaking out into a wide, toothy grin that made him look like a boy of ten instead of a full grown man. “So, we're all in the tavern? Doing tavern things?” 

“Think meta. Like a movie.” Varric encouraged. “Tell us a few things that we'd know as an audience from first glance.” 

“Right, then. Tavern doing tavern things. Razkh's Dragonborn and proud of it. He's from an isolated clan high up in the Snowborne Mountains, and has never learned to try and disguise himself- he runs around in his armor and furs and generally looks like the scariest thing in the room. He usually is the scariest person in a room, with his giant horns and red scales and spiky tail. It's how he got his job as a merc, traveling across the land in search of adventure and good times.” Hawke grins at this. “Razkh's busy drinking a flagon of ale and chomping on a leg of mutton, with his battle axe casually leaning up against the wall.” 

“How many holes does he get in his clothes, with all those spikes?” Isabela purred out, and Hawke waggled his eyebrows, leaning forward to give his camera a flirtatious grin. 

“Plenty of holes, in all the right places.” Hawke said in what should have been a sultry voice before he was elbowed in the gut by both Aveline and Carver. 

“Behave!” Aveline admonished at the same time Carver said “Christ, Hawke, keep it in your pants!” Anders muffled a giggle behind his hand, and he swore he heard Ghost chuckling too underneath everyone else's laughter or gasps. 

“We'll pan the camera over to Carver's character.” Varric said, getting the group back under his control. “Carver, you're our guest for the evening, from what Hawke told me?” 

“Yeah.” Carver mumbled. “So Robert is a human mercenary in the same group as Razkh, a former knight who left the service of his lord in Wildwood in order to find a place to settle down and enjoy the peace and quiet. In his prime he was a giant of a man. Now he's older, more bent down and broken by time and experience. He's a bit of a mess, hasn't shaved or cut his hair in ages. He's sipping his ale and surveying the room to figure out where each exit is and who is a suspicious figures in the crowd.” 

“Excellent, excellent.” Varric replied. “Aveline?” 

“Storvakher is a brown bear.” Aveline stated blandly. “Who is politely sitting at a table and eating a raw fish. She is very large and has long claws and sharp teeth, and very dark, cunning eyes.” 

“Why is Storvakher in the tavern?” Varric urged. Anders liked that, how Varric encouraged players to share more by asking questions instead of skipping over them. Varric worked hard to make everyone feel included. 

“Storvakher is the Captain of the Guard in Aeredale, a small city in the north.” Aveline said, and her stern lips quirked in a brief little smirk. “She defeated a group of bandits who made a base in her cave, and the citizens elected her as guard captain, and she was given a large medallion that she wears around her neck to show her rank and duty to the town. Storvakher is investigating a case of smuggled goods coming from Portsmouth to Aeredale.” 

“Perfect! Now, Light, why don't we discuss your character?” Varric asked with his customary grin. 

“Of course, Varric. My pleasure.” **Lord of Light** replied. “Sam is a human paladin in the service of the great Pelor. He is dressed in immaculate white armor with sun motifs etched on it, and practically gleams in the candlelight. Sam is on a personal quest to slay demons and bring light to faraway lands. He is drinking a mug of tea and eating a simple meal of bread and cheese while watching the patrons to see if he can sense any dark motives or the presence of a demon that he has been tracking for some time.” 

“Remind me to make you roll for 'Sense Evil,' Choir Boy.” Varric stated. “Isabela, you're up.” 

“Wonderful.” Isabela purred. “Belladonna is a sea captain currently stuck on shore leave while her ship is under repair. She's taken up a room above the tavern and swaps stories with the local sailors. She's a familiar face in the tavern, and is currently flirting with a barmaid to try and get a free drink or two.” 

“Just a captain?” Varric asked. Anders liked how Varric pushed for more information, always with a bit of humor and fun in his voice. Anders found himself fully relaxed and engaged in the story, and excited to see what would come next. 

“Perhaps she's a bit of a smuggler on the side.” Isabela admitted. “But it's not like anyone can tell from first glance, you know? They just see a pretty brunette with ample tracts of land.” 

“Of course, Bela, of course.” Varric replied. “Now Merrill. The camera goes to you.” 

“Alright!” Merrill said enthusiastically. “Um, my character is Daisy, a wood elf sorceress who lives as a hermit in the Green Graves forest. She's traveling the world to collect these mirror shards, you see, because they are supposed to unlock ancient magics lost to her people- oh, but you wouldn't know that from just looking at her- that is, she's very new to city life and is staring at everyone and everything. She's not too fond of all the ale, though. Very bitter.” 

“How would you describe Daisy's appearance?” Varric asked patiently. 

“Small. She has very pale blonde hair, but is rather tan. She's always outside, you know. And brown eyes! And Daisy has lots of freckles, all over her nose. Freckles are always so sweet, don't you think? And she's dressed in very torn up green and brown robes, and she wanders around barefoot a lot.” 

“Perfect job, Merrill. Ghost?” Varric turned to the next member of their party, and Anders leaned forward, as if leaning forward would help him catch more of the words and conversation. 

“Zeke is a drow warrior, but wears a cloak and hood so he can go out in public.” Ghost began slowly. Anders tried not to sigh in pleasure as Ghost talked. He might not be the master storyteller Varric was, but he had a voice that just drew him in. “He left the Underdark at a young age, and has been traveling above ground ever since, working as a mercenary, a gladiator, and whatever else will put a meal on the table. Most recently he was hired on as a temporary member of the mercenary crew with Razkh and Robert. Zeke is currently tugging at his gloves and hoping that his hood has hidden his face from the crowd of patrons.” 

“Would you describe Zeke as an attractive sort of man? Does he have distinguishing features?” 

“For a drow, possibly, but he doesn't consider himself to be particularly handsome.” Ghost replied. “He has yellow eyes. He's dressed shabbily, and only his weapons and armor are in good condition.” 

“Good, good. That leaves... Justice.” Varric finally said with a smile. “Tell us all about your character, Justice.” 

“Right.” Anders took a deep breath and reminded himself that his ideas were of value and worth sharing before he began to speak. “Leon is a human sorcerer turned healer. He traveled down to Portsmouth from his home in the small town of Crystal Lake to confirm rumors of a suspicious plague spreading from the trade ships that made stops in Portsmouth. He's a little vain, well groomed and tries to always look pretty, but he's pretty much ordinary looking. Tall, skinny, mousy hair. Not ugly, just very ordinary.” 

“Is the healer doing anything at the moment?” Varric asked. 

“Oh, he's desperately flirting with the barmaid Belladona's flirting with. He also offered to trade his healing skills for a free room and meal.” Anders said quickly. “It's probably very annoying, since he's saying things like 'Oh please, miss! Your feet must be so sore from standing, why don't I give you a special salve for that?' His table mates are probably very annoyed.” 

“I'm not!” Isabela replied with some amusement. 

“Since we're all introduced to each other,” Varric said with a smile, “It's time to get started.” He took a deep breath and began to speak. 

“The ale is cheap but strong, the common room crowded but warm. And the group of strangers you're seated with seem an interesting bunch. You crowd around the table as you partake in supper and try to enjoy the evening. It's better to be crowded inside a safe inn instead of being out there in the mists.” Varric stated. “Is there anything your characters would be doing on this night?” 

“Flirting and trying to get into people's pants!” Isabela crowed, and everyone laughed. 

“Daisy is eagerly staring at everyone else at the table- she has never seen so many people before!” Merrill interjected. “She would also like to pet the Bear, Storvakher, but that would be impolite.” 

“Razkh is probably too busy stuffing his face to notice anything else going on.” Hawke said with a chuckle, rubbing his hand against his bearded chin. 

“Robert's a bit concerned about the amount of people in one inn. Did they really have nowhere else to go?” Carver asked. 

“Want to do a knowledge or history check?” Varric replied. 

“Yes.” Carver reached over the table and picked up a d20 before rolling it. “Shit. Six.” 

“You recall hearing rumors of dark creatures lurking the streets of Portsmouth when the sun goes down, but can't remember much more than that. Rumors.” Varric stated firmly. “Sam can roll to sense evil if he wishes. Though that would out his position and make him suspicious.” 

“I will use a religion check.” **Lord of Light** said, and there was a rustle of fabric and a definite sound of something hard rolling on wood. “A sixteen.” Light said solemnly. Varric nodded. 

“You saw something over the tavern entrance, a symbol carved into the wood of the door. It is a crude symbol of an open eye surrounded by sunbeams, an old symbol associated with your god Pelor. It a symbol to protect against dark presences. You noticed that many doors were marked with this symbol. There must be some sort of darkness looming over the town, but you can't distinguish the source. The darkness rules over everything and cannot be separated from anything else. You sense no particular malice from those sitting at the table with you, and you cannot gain any more knowledge.” Varric said lowly. 

“Hold on for a moment.” Aveline muttered. She was staring at a sheet of paper intently. Anders could only assume it was her character sheet. “Hawke, what does 'Intimidate' do?” 

“You can intimidate other characters and NPCs. Can't quite do it yet, though. No one's talked to us for long enough to do that.” Hawke explained. 

“Fine. I'll use listen.” Aveline finally said. “Hand me a dice.” 

“We're buying you a a set of dice eventually.” Carver muttered as he gave Aveline his dice. She rolled it, and everyone was quite as she stared down at the dice. 

“What does a fifteen do?” Aveline finally asked. 

“Storvakher hears someone slinking around upstairs above the din of the crowded common room. She can't distinguish if it is a thief planning to steal valuables or a maid cleaning the rooms.” Varric said. “There are too many people to make out anything more.” 

“Well, that's something.” Aveline replied. “Don't quite know what, but it's something.” 

“Zeke is hiding further in his hood and tells Razkh to eat his meal a bit more quietly. It's terribly impolite.” Ghost said mildly. 

“Hey, you're not my mum!” Hawke protested as Carver roared with laughter. 

“Anything else, Ghost?” Varric asked 

“No, not yet.” Ghost replied. “It's Justice's turn now, is it not?” 

“I'm useless unless someone needs a bit of healing.” Anders joked, aware of all the attention placed on him. “Anyone have a paper cut? Stab wound?” After a moment's hesitation, Anders glanced at his sheet of skills and sighed. “Can I use 'Sense Motive' on my party members to make sure none of them are under the influence of a spell?” 

“Why, Justice!” Isabela gasped with mock indignation, her lips turned down in an impressive pout. “You suspect us of duplicity? My honor has been stained!” 

“Hmmm, hold on for a second-” Varric flipped through his book. “A general sort of check, Justice?” 

“Yeah.” Anders took out his d-20, blew on it, and rolled. “Fuck. Ten.” First roll and his dice was cold. He hoped it was just bad luck this time, because he did not want to dig through his box of dice to find a replacement. 

“You sense nothing sinister, because you sense nothing at all. Perhaps it was the alcohol you imbibed or the crowds of people, but you're simply overwhelmed and can't discover anything more.” Varric replied. “Now, while this has been going on, the innkeeper, a hulking gentleman with a bald head and a luxurious mustache, approached Belladonna to discuss rooming in the inn.” 

“So what's the situation, hot stuff?” Isabela purred. 

“The man clears his throat and speaks in a rumbly, rusty voice. 'The inn is overcrowded, ma'am, and there is little room for private rooms. Would you be willing to share a room with a few of your companions?” Varric said, putting on a faint European accent for the character. 

“Of course. There's plenty of room. Who doesn't have one?” Isabela asked the group. 

“I only arrived today, I'm so sorry-” Merrill said apologetically. “Do you mind terribly, Captain Belladona?” 

“Of course not. I have one more bed, if two of you don't mind bunking together.” Isabela said with a seductive, charming smile. 

“I will take up that offer.” Sebastian replied. “And I swear on my honor as a priest of Pelor that these two lovely maidens will remain unsullied and safe-” 

“Oh, thank you very much! That's quite polite, isn't it Captain?” Merrill enthused, and Anders noticed that she seemed to add a little bit of an extra lilt to her voice when she was playing her character. 

“Oh. Wonderful.” Isabella drawled out sarcastically before winking at the camera. 

“Storvakher will take the floor.” Aveline said. “She will sleep near the door.” 

“I have a spot in my room.” Hawke added cheerfully. “But you have to share.” 

“I just arrived.” Anders piped up. “I don't steal covers, don't snore, and can intimidate any unwelcome guests with some theatrics and fire. So if no one objects to sharing-” 

“You can share with me.” Ghost replied. “I would rather not battle with Razkh's scales and spikes when I'm trying to sleep. And Robert snores.” 

“Oh, thanks a lot. Very considerate of you.” Carver muttered. His camera was further away, but Anders saw that the man was frowning. Hawke wore an impressive pout on his face, one that seemed to contradict the gleam in his eyes. 

“Don't you like me, Zeke? I'm like a personal space heater!” Hawke said 

“No.” Ghost said dryly. “You sprawl about.” 

“Oh, fine! You'll just miss out on this fine ass.” Hawke teased, and Carver buried his face into his hands. His muttered groan may have been “For fuck's sake.” Anders cleared his throat. 

“If it's not a problem I'll take you up on it.” Anders stated, and he grinned as a private chat window opened up and Ghost typed a message to him in the whisper chat. 

**Lyrium_Ghost** : Now I saved you from a sleepless night. Varric will make us roll for it, I'm certain of it. 

Anders bit his lip to prevent himself from laughing out loud and quickly typed out a reply. 

**Spirit_of_Justice** : Thanks for the rescue, Ghost! Leon will have to pay Zeke back sometime. First dibs on healing, perhaps? 

The reply was quick, and Anders smiled as he read it. 

**Lyrium_Ghost** : You're welcome, Justice. 

Anders returned his attention to the game. Varric was once again dumping important story information, and Anders hoped he hadn't missed anything. 

“The patrons of the bar all depart upstairs to sleep, and the bartender begins to slowly wipe up the spilled ale and questionable spills of another nature.” Varric said lowly. “Soon your party are the only people left downstairs in the main room.” 

“Time for bed, then!” Hawke said cheerfully. “Ladies first, of course.” 

“Storvakher grumbles and moves away from the table to shamble upstairs. She plans to get as much rest as she can so she can begin her investigation tomorrow morning in the sunlight.” Aveline states. 

“I'm following the bear.” Isabela joked. “She seems to know what's going on.” 

“Oh, I'm going to bed too. Daisy was traveling all day, it's best to get some rest now before she goes off in the morning to do her research.” Merrill said cheerfully. “Oh, and Daisy is going to check her room for anything suspicious.” 

“Roll for it once you're upstairs, Daisy.” Varric said easily. “Everyone else?” 

“I will wash up and go to bed after prayers.” Light promptly stated. “I am, however, slightly uneasy. Did all the patrons leave at the same time, or have hours passed?” 

“Some time has passed, but they departed at around the same time, just before midnight.” Varric confirmed. Light hummed a sound of acknowledgment. “Anything else?” 

“How far are we from the front door?” Light asked. 

“About thirty feet.” Varric replied. 

“I want to Sense Evil, aimed outside the front door. Something is strange here, if the patrons are all retreating upstairs at the same time.” Light said, and there was another clatter of dice and a hissed “Yes!” before he spoke again. “Seventeen.” Light sounded smug. 

“There is nothing evil in your direct presence.” Varric said. “But you detect a sinister presence outside the walls of the inn, lurking in the shadows, waiting for a moment to strike.” 

“I do not wish to alarm anyone.” Light said, lowering his voice as if he did not wish to be overheard. “But there is something evil outside this inn. We must tread carefully, despite being under the protection of Pelor.” 

“I... thank you for your concern.” Ghost said in a cautiously polite tone. “What do you suggest?” 

“Fight it, right?” Hawke said, his eyes glittering eagerly. 

“No.” Aveline and Carver said instantly. Aveline's frown was impressive. 

“Storvakher will slap you, Ha- that is, Razkh, so don't you even try it.” Aveline said firmly. 

“Fine. We'll stay on alert?” Hawke suggested. 

“What did you sense?” Ghost asked Light. 

“I could not make it out. I only know that there is something outside.” Light said quietly. 

“There are lots of things outside.” Isabela pointed out. “And plenty of undesirable folk who lurk around. It could be nothing more than a pick pocket.” 

“It's dangerous out there. There's a reason the townsfolk don't linger outside after dark.” Carver said darkly. “Going out there in the rain and fog? Suicide.” 

“We'll keep that in mind and stay in the defensible, warm, and safe inn.” Anders piped up. “Outside of the rain. And away from the evil creatures. Maybe we can have a watch in each room, take turns?” 

“I agree.” Merrill said. She sounded a bit anxious. “We shouldn't run around outside if we're running out into the dark." 

“Leon suggested staying inside, and I agree. We should stay inside.” Ghost was firm. 

“Agreed. Upstairs?” Carver said. “Because I'm going upstairs.” 

The entire group assented, and Anders added his own agreement. Varric picked up the narration. 

“You venture upstairs and separate into your rooms, preparing for bed. The inn has provided two beds with surprisingly comfortable mattresses and no bed ticks. There are wool blankets, pillows, and even a bed-pan filled with toasty coals to heat up the sheets on this cold night. The baths in the bathing chambers are outside in the hall, and have been filled with hot water. The inn has even provided soap and towels! Impressive service.” Varric remarked. 

“I'm going to bed. Well, taking off some armor and putting my things down, then going to bed.” Hawke stated. “No point staying up so late when we need our rest.” 

“I'll take first watch.” Ghost offered. “Since I'm probably the most sober.” 

“Good. I'm going to wash up then sleep. Wake me up in a few hours when your watch is over.” Anders stated. 

“I'll take third.” Carver reluctantly chimed in. “But Razkh has to saddle and care for our horses when we leave.” 

“Fine, sure, let me sleep.” Hawke said lazily. “Off I go. To sleep.” 

“Storvakher will take first watch.” Aveline said grimly. 

“Off to bed, then!” Merrill chirped. 

“So the party is snug under their covers, filled with warm food and drink, but wary. The entire town was mysterious and a bit intimidating- who wouldn't be wary of it? So Storvakher waits at the door of her shared room and Zeke keeps watch in his own. It seems like it will be a quite night. The second watch is about to begin.” Varric said lowly. 

“I go to Leon and shake him awake so he can take the next watch.” Ghost stated. 

“Anything interesting happen?” Anders asked, mostly to keep in character but also to hear Ghost talk. How could one man have such an addictive voice? It was fascinating. 

“The maid and the lady bard with the lute were rather loud as they engaged in their... passions.” Ghost said in an unamused, dry voice. “They are two doors to the right from us. Otherwise it has been quiet.” 

“Ohh, Ghost! Getting frisky with the world building!” Hawke crowed. “Knew you had it in you!” 

“Your sister requested I put her in for when she decides to play.” Ghost replied, and it sounded like he was smiling. Anders couldn't help but chuckle at Ghost's playful banter. 

“Lucky girls. It's freezing in those big beds.” He said, aware that his character, Leon, would flirt with anything breathing and vaguely humanoid. A stern drow warrior would be right up Leon's alley. “Need someone to keep you warm while you get some rest?” 

“You are an incorrigible flirt.” Ghost announced. “Take the second watch.” 

“Fine, but just because you asked so nicely.” Anders said cheekily, and practically glowed with pleasure when Ghost laughed, honest to God _laughed_ at his words. 

“Aveline, how about you?” Varric asked. 

“Storvakher lumbers over to wake the paladin, Sam. He can take the second watch, and Storvakher would like to get some rest before the morning.” Aveline frowned at her character sheet. “I can't think of anything else to do, so I'll end there.” 

“Sam, of course, is quite alarmed to be woken up by a bear, but manages not to scream.” Light said. “He gets up and takes hold of his short sword before moving to the door.” 

“Varric, I will make a perception check to see if there is anyone sneaking about on the second floor.” Ghost stated. 

“Go ahead, Ghost.” 

“Seven.” Ghost announced after a short pause. “I also have alertness, giving me a plus two bonus. So a nine.” 

“You sense nothing beyond one patron stumbling into the lavatory. Everything is silent.” Varric said slowly. “Silent, but not for long. There is a loud bang downstairs, the sound of a fist rapidly hammering on the front door of the inn multiple times in a row. An _armored_ fist.” 

“City Guard! Open up!” Varric's voice took on a harsh tone, rough and loud compared to his typically smooth, rich voice. “We suspect the owner is harboring fugitives in their midst!” 

“The front door creaks open, and armored feet stomp into the inn, waking every patron in the inn with the noise. Everyone, make perception checks.” 

“Six.” Hawke said. 

“Five.” Carver grumbled, crossing his arms. 

“One.” Light sighed sadly. 

“Fifteen.” Isabela smirked. 

“Ten.” Ghost stated. “Plus two, making twelve.” 

“Eighteen!” Merrill cheered. Anders took a deep breath and rolled his dice. 

“Nine.” He said after a moment. Not the best, but certainly better than a one. 

“Nineteen.” Aveline sounded rather proud. “That's good, right?” 

“Damn good.” Hawke said, pounding Aveline on the back. “Good job, Aveline!” 

“So Aveline, you, as Storvakher, sense a certain wrongness about these men who are downstairs, something that smells off and inhuman. It raises your hackles. Whatever the intent these men have, it is not good.” Varric began. “Merrill, or Daisy, you sense the use of magic, something dark. Something old. You remember stories of magic like this, magic steeped in dark rituals and human sacrifice.” 

“Oh dear, that's not very nice at all, is it?” Merrill said in her sweet, lilting voice. Her big green eyes were wide in concern. “I really think we should get of here, someone down there is a dark sorcerer! Sam, can you wake up the others? Inform the rest of the patrons? It really is a terribly dark thing down there!” 

“Of course, Daisy. Storvakher, watch my back please.” Light replied. “I will slowly open our door, cross the hall, and knock on the door opposite ours to gather the rest of the party. I let them know that it's me behind the door.” 

“Now, Isabela, you rolled a fifteen, so Belladonna heard the guards say they were searching for fugitives.” Varric turned his attention to Isabella, his thick hands and rough fingers bridging together in a contemplative sort of gesture. “You've heard of these random searches, where the city guard seizes strangers in town and takes them into custody, where they disappear and are never heard from again-” 

“Do the rooms have windows?” Isabela interrupted. “And which ones face away from the main street?” 

“The rooms have windows, and your room is the one that faces towards an alleyway.” Varric confirmed. “There are window boxes filled with wilted flowers, and a wooden veranda covering the back porch.” 

“I quietly open the window. We should all be able to push through and sneak out with little problem.” Isabela paused, a smirk crossing her lips. “Most of us, at least. Bear might have some trouble.” 

“The bear,” Aveline ground out between her tight lipped scowl. “Will be just fine.” 

“Do a perception check on that.” Varric said, and Isabela tossed the dice on her desk, her golden bracelets jingling lightly. 

“Fifteen.” 

“Fortunately for the party, this window is gigantic, and will certainly fit the bear. The veranda, however, might buckle over under Storvakher's weight. But the height is only ten feet or so, it is unlikely that there will be a serious injury.” 

“Daisy, I've got an escape ready. Let the others know.” Isabella informed Merrill. 

“Sam? Did you hear that?” Merrill asked. 

“Of course.” Light replied. “Good sir, I'm a priest of Pelor, I am not your enemy!” 

“The rest of you, unfortunately, are a bit confused and unprepared for this sudden change. Ghost, Zeke is the most prepared in your room, followed by Leon. Sam knocks on your door.” 

“I open the door and ask the paladin what is wrong.” Ghost said. “Does this happen often in this town? Random midnight searches?” 

“Daisy says there's a dark sorcerer in the crowd, and Belladonna seems on edge. We thought we'd warn you before moving to the other rooms.” Light said, infusing his voice with urgency. 

“I'll wake up Robert and Razkh, get the bags ready.” Anders piped up. “I've had plenty of practice slipping out of tight places, it's not like this will be hard.” 

“Famous last words.” Hawke quipped. “So we're sneaking out? All of us? Why not take them down? Rush the stairs and engage in a bar fight?” 

“Too risky.” Carver muttered. “Who knows how many are down there? Especially tangling with a sorcerer.” 

“Point made. Here's your bag, we'll go wake the others-” Anders said, but Varric interrupted him. 

“The guards downstairs are now stomping around at the bottom of the stairs.” Varric stated. “You can here the innkeeper feebly protesting that the guards will disturb his guests, won't the guard look at the rooms in the morning? You also hear the guards tell the man to shut up. There are more steps climbing up the stairs." 

“Never mind, we're running.” Anders amended. “Any brilliant plans?” 

“No need, Belladonna has an escape route prepared.” Light interrupted. “Grab your things, we must leave now.” 

“Some sorcerer.” Carver muttered, then said clearly. “We're ready. Robert marches into the next room after ushering the others out, and quietly shuts the door behind him.” 

“Is the party all gathered together?” Varric asked, and once he had the confirmation he continued to speak. “This is the part where everyone decides what to do. Going out the window?” There was another affirmation, and he continued to speak, his voice weaving a short tale. 

“The guards are still held up at the bottom of the stairs, the innkeeper begging for them to let him wake his customers up and inform them of the mess- 'They are well paying customers, sirs, I do not wish to lose the coin, you see, but I would never insult our mayor, so of course I will go and check on the customers, I swear it!' The innkeeper's voice is filled with panic. The guards have no interest in what he has to say.” 

“If Mayor Lowell and Guard Captain Reginald have declared this inn must be searched for fugitives, it will be searched. If Bishop Quincey has declared blasphemers have been harbored in this establishment, it will be searched.” Varric said it in a dull, rehearsed tone, the voice of a sleepwalker. “The armored steps come up the stairs, marching in a steady, heavy rhythm, and you know that there is only one way out. The window. Fortunately for you, it's less than ten feet to the ground, so no checks. But as you begin to figure out who is going to go out the window first, the first steps of boots land on the second floor. ” 

“Well shit. I'm going.” Isabela announced. “And I jump out of the window and onto the wood veranda before hopping down. I also have boots of levitation, so can I use it to prevent myself from twisting an ankle or something?” 

“The wood is slick from rain, but you manage to maintain your balance.” Varric replied. “And I'll let you do that, since I don't have my book on me this time.” 

“I'll go next!” Merrill offered. “I slide out of the window and carefully make my way down to the ground so I can shimmy down the wood support column.” 

“Razkh will quickly hop down, it's only ten feet, right?” Hawke asked, and after Varric's confirmation that yes, it was indeed ten feet, Hawke continued to speak. “So I walk out on the wood, take a running leap, and roll out into a crouch on the ground!” 

“Showoff.” Carver muttered. “Robert slowly makes his way down to the ground, lowering himself off the edge of the veranda to land on his feet.” 

“Leon will follow Robert's example, because he isn't exactly the most athletic person ever.” Anders said calmly. Jumping about and behaving recklessly wasn't his style. His strength was eleven and dexterity twelve, but he was certain he would injure himself doing something stupid and then where would they be? Down a healer, that's for certain. 

“I will go next, and climb down the wooden column.” Ghost stated. 

“I also climb down the veranda and land on the ground.” Light added. “So all that is left is Storvakher.” 

“Storvakher gingerly lumbers out onto the veranda, hears the slow bend of the wood, and hurriedly leaps down to the ground, grumbling all the while.” Aveline stated. “Storvakher is not pleased that her sleep was interrupted and that they are now out in the fog and rain.” 

“While you have all successfully made it down alive, the guards heard the commotion and started knocking down the door. The street is wet, the rain heavy, the fog thick. The buildings loom over you all, oppressive and dark. There are no lights in the windows, no safe port in the storm.” 

“I've been here a while, I might know a place where we can go.” Isabela said. 

“Check your local knowledge.” Varric said, and Isabela tossed her dice again, her bracelets flashing again. 

“Sixteen.” Isabela sounded smug. 

“There's a warehouse near the docks, one that holds your cargo while your ship has been grounded.” Varric said. “You can lead the party there and discuss what to do next.” 

“Fantastic, wonderful, let's get out of the rain. And away from the guards.” Anders joked. “I sort of like not facing down dark sorcerers today, thank you.” 

“Follow me, then.” Isabela replied. 

“The streets are quieter than a grave. Water runs in rivers down the cobblestone streets, and the only light are the weak oil lamps sputtering in the rain, and the occasional flashes of lightning lighting the sky.” Varric said slowly. “Belladona takes the party to a large wooden building that smells of salt spray and fish next to the water. Perception checks for the party.” 

“Seven.” Hawke said. 

“Five.” Aveline glared at her dice. 

“Nine.” Carver grumbled. 

“Two.” Light sighed. 

“Six.” That was Ghost, who sounded rather put out. 

“One, so nope!” Merrill said cheerily. 

“Ten.” Isabela said. 

“Eighteen.” Anders announced. An eighteen! Just when they needed it! The dice were hot again! 

“Saving throw, Justice!” Varric said approvingly. “No one else can spy anything with all the fog and rain and dark, but Leon spies a window that is slightly cracked open.” 

“We could go in here. Belladona, you can lock pick, right?” Anders asked. 

“Of course, sweet thing. Boost me up, will you?” 

“I'll do it.” Ghost volunteered. 

“Inside, let me get this lock undone.” Isabela said. “It's pretty dark, but dry and empty. Safe enough for the night.” 

“You can here the faint sound of shouting far in the distance, but can't make out the words. You can only assume it came from the guards from the inn.” Varric told the group. “Isabela, make a skill check for lock picking.” 

“Belladona, hurry!” Merrill hissed. “The guards are coming!” 

“Hold on a bit, kitten.” Isabela rolled her dice, stared at the number, glanced at her character sheet, and smiled. “Sixteen, Varric.” 

“The door opens smoothly, and the party enters and shuts the door behind them.” Varric's voice filled the speakers. “The warehouse is dusty, but dry. If everyone curls together it will be comfortable until morning. The voices of the guards fade away into the distance. It is silent, save for the rain.” 

“I don't think they'll find us.” Isabela murmured. 

“Does anyone care to explain what happened to get us kicked out of the inn?” Carver grumbled. “Who stole what to call in the guards?” 

“Oh. Well. There was a dark sorcerer. They... well, they had been casting magic at some point. Dark magic. Fueled with human sacrifice.” Merrill said hesitantly. “They were with the guard.” 

“I also have stories on good account that these city guards are... unusual.” Isabela added. “When they take in prisoners, those prisoners _disappear_. No one sees them again.” 

“Does anyone have anything else to add?” Carver asked. 

“I believe them.” Light said firmly. “I also sensed something strange and wicked in this town.” 

“May I make a history check?” Ghost asked. 

“Certainly.” Varric gestured broadly with an open palm, as if welcoming Ghost to roll his dice. 

“Eleven.” 

“While you cannot recall everything, there were stories from when you were a young child in the Underdark, rumors of magic as dark as that of Lloth, the Spider Queen, patron deity of the Drow.” Varric's voice sounded spooky, and Anders instinctively drew his blankets even closer around his shoulders. “There were stories of sacrifices performed to summon demons from the outer realms, to summon creatures even more powerful, even darker. And the sacrificial victims were always outsiders. Fresh blood.” 

“I believe the sorceress and merchant are telling the truth.” Ghost said lowly. “I have heard of rituals that require outsiders to play the sacrifice. I also feel uneasy.” 

“I don't like getting chased around by strange guards in a strange town.” Anders added. “I believe you.” 

“Storvakher lets out a snort. She feels that this may be some overreaction, but she also agrees that the guard behavior was suspicious at best.” Aveline stated. 

“Eh, I'm a bit uneasy myself. Who raids an inn so late at night?” Hawke asked. 

“So you believe us?” Merrill asked. “Really?” 

“Yes.” Ghost stated. 

“Wait.” Hawke said quietly. “Did anyone do a perception check? Are we alone here?” 

“Roll a perception check, Hawke.” 

“Fourteen!” Hawke crowed. 

“You hear a coughing sound, and something stumbles along and knocks into a wooden crate. Something shuffles out from behind the crates, and..... and I think we'll end the game here for tonight.” Varric said smugly. The group heaved a collective groan, and Varric dismissed them all with a laugh and a reminder to meet again next week for the next game. Anders sighed a happy sigh of relief. The game went well. More than well! He had a wonderful time playing, and while he wasn't sure he was confident enough to show his face to a group of strangers, he no longer felt uneasy about talking to them. 

**Lyrium_Ghost** : Good game, Justice. Perhaps we can talk strategy sometime this week? 

Strategy talks? With Ghost? They could write some interesting character moments, or a dramatic battle sequence, or even just brainstorm ideas of how to avoid getting killed by Varric. And getting to talk to Ghost was a treat all on its own. Anders did not have to think long to come to a decision. 

**Spirit_of_Justice** : That would be great! Message me sometime, we'll make this work! 

Ghost's reply was short, but it still brought a smile to Anders's face. 

**Lyrium_Ghost** : I look forward to it. Good night, Justice. 

**Spirit_of_Justice** : Night, Ghost! 

Anders logged off the chat and leaned back in his chair. Pounce meowed loudly at him, and Anders released his breath. He managed to play a game with a group of strangers and not make a complete fool of himself! He thought back to his decent roll and how it enabled them to enter the warehouse. No, he was pretty useful in the game, useful and a decent player. Anders was also pleased that Ghost seemed to like him and wanted to talk to him more. It was... well, it was something, and Anders liked that something. 

“You know, Pounce, I think this might be the start of a wonderful friendship.” Anders addressed his cat, and Pounce merely meowed and flicked his tail before rolling over to demand tummy rubs. Anders gave them instantly with a smile. Life, he thought happily as he imagined what sort of adventures his character could go on, was rather wonderful right now.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was a lot more game heavy than I originally intended, so hopefully the next chapter will have some more character building.
> 
> Thank you to everyone who has read/commented/left kudos/bookmarked any of my stories. I wouldn't be able to write without your support. Thank you!


	4. Anders and the Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad Day

Anders was having a horrendous day. He had to make a dog vomit up a pair of their owner's lacy underthings, de-flea several stray cats, amputate the front leg of a dog who had been smacked by a car, and deal with several annual checkups. He was grateful that there wasn't anything worse. He felt completely drained and utterly miserable as he dragged himself out of the clinic. 

“Hey, Anders!” Alistair called out before swinging a meaty, muscled arm around Anders's neck. “Planning to be a homebody? Again?” 

“Yes.” Anders replied with a sigh. “Might take Pounce for a walk.” Pounce hated his harness, but he enjoyed exploring the park across the street. Alistair laughed and ruffled Anders's hair, and Anders ducked to try and avoid the contact. He straightened his scrubs (blue ones patterned with frolicking fluffy sheep) and gave Alistair his best intimidating glare. Alistair ignored it. Either the glare needed work or Alistair was simply immune to negativity. 

“Look, you're coming to dinner this Sunday.” Alistair ordered. “You need some good home cooking and non-animal company, Anders.” 

“Alistair, I'm fin-” Anders protested as he shrugged on a light-weight hooded sweatshirt. 

“No, you're being a complete misanthrope.” Alistair said, filled with the sort of parental patience. “Ellie's making a beef and broccoli stir-fry with apple turnovers for dessert!” 

“Alistair, I'm a vegetarian.” Anders replied. “I don't eat meat.” 

“We'll make one with tofu for you. Ellie's just learned how to properly cook it, she'd love to try it out.” 

“I'm not making a pregnant woman cook a separate meal just for me.” Anders protested. “Why would you do that to your wife?” 

Alistair shrugged. “I'm not making her cook. I don't think I could _make_ Ellie do _anything_ if she was set against it.” Anders had to agree. Alistair's wife had a forceful personality and spirit, one that could not be contained or controlled. Anders liked that about her, and missed having her pop into the clinic. But her due date, as Alistair constantly reminded his coworkers, was only two weeks away. Alistair was practically bursting with an anxious sort pride every time he talked about Ellie and their baby. 

“But seriously. Come and drop in for dinner this weekend. We'd be happy to have you.” Alistair patted Anders's back again before strolling off and whistling a merry tune. Anders shrugged and reminded himself that Alistair was just a friendly guy who wanted to make sure his friends were comfortable. And while Anders considered himself to be friendly, open, and a good-humored sort, he knew that he needed his own space to breath and feel comfortable with himself. Anders grabbed his wallet, phone, and keys, deposited it in his hoodie pocket, and hurried to his car. It was a nice enough day with plenty of light left. He'd take Pounce on a walk, Anders decided. He'd walk Pounce, then log onto the chatroom and talk to **Lyrium_Ghost**. 

Ghost was really quite funny, Anders thought as he drove home. The man tried to be serious most of the time, but there was a dry sort of humor that ran underneath every conversation. He was witty, observant, and just _so_ easy to _talk_ to. Ghost also listened, and that was a rare and valuable skill in Anders's experience. Few people bothered to listen to him when he was growing up. No one really bothered to figure out his wants and needs, let alone listen to him ramble about everything under the sun. Yet Ghost entertained his ramblings with patience. He laughed at Anders's lame jokes and listened to Anders complain about work. 

“I really shouldn't monopolize the conversation.” Anders thought as he shut off the engine and locked the car door. The sky was a little cloudy, he noted, but nothing terrible. It would be a nice walk in the park, Anders thought. A good thirty minutes where Pounce could stretch his legs and romp about outside. Anders walked into the elevator with a bit more pep in his step before entering his apartment. He ignored the blank walls and approached the massive cat tree that dominated the far wall. 

Cat trees, Anders thought as he approached, were horribly expensive and difficult to transport. When he first moved into his flat, he complained to Nathaniel about how difficult it was to find a stimulating, useful cat tree for Pounce. Alistair happened to walk by just as Anders exclaimed “I've made several cardboard box toys but Pounce needs _more_ than that!” Alistair volunteered to build a cat tree for Anders, and wouldn't be dissuaded when Anders demurred and said it was too much to ask for from his coworkers. Alistair would not budge, and Anders gave in. 

The following week, every day after work, Alistair stopped by for about an hour to build the cat tree. It became something like an impressive fortress, with scratching posts, cat nests, and a rather cute house shaped like a cottage perched at the very top. Anders loved to hang toys off the massive structure while Pounce lounged about and lazily swiped at the dangling mice and feathered balls. Anders approached the cat tree, and Pounce carefully picked his way down the tree to butt his head against Anders's chin. Anders scratched behind Pounce's ears and smiled. 

“Who's a precious kitty?” Anders crooned as Pounce purred loudly. “You are! You are!” 

Pounce meowed, and Anders picked him up. Pounce clung to his shoulder. “We're going on a walk, Pounce!” 

Shoving a harness over Pounce's head was not a problem, and the cat patiently waited for Anders to attach the leash to his harness before jumping back into Anders's arms. Anders locked his door and walked down the hall, quickly taking the steps so he and Pounce could enjoy their day in the park. He crossed the street and hurried to the park, which was filled with all sorts of wonders for both humans and cats. Anders set Pounce on the ground and held onto the end of the leash so he could enjoy the cool grass under his little paws. Pounce pranced across grass and dirt, crawled under bushes and up a tree, and batted at the fish in the small pond. 

Anders was by a tree, loosely holding on to Pounce's leash as Pounce clambered up the rough bark to sit on a branch, when he spotted someone standing on the other side of the park near the water fountain. Anders's heart sunk and his hackles rose as he took in and recognized the dark clothing and white hair. It was his neighbor, Leto, taking a walk across the park with a red-haired woman. He stopped to buy the woman an ice cream from a vendor's cart. Off with his girlfriend, obviously, Anders thought bitterly, and was horribly shocked by his vehemence. He didn't care about his neighbor at all! Leto _hated_ him, why should Anders care? Anders carefully picked up Pounce (who was clambering down from the tree to chase a cricket hopping around in the grass) and quickly marched away to a more secluded area to let Pounce roam. Pounce took the sudden move well, as he began batting at the long grass and chasing after a tiny frog who wandered away from the pond. All the while Anders scolded himself as he watched Pounce frolic. 

Why did he run off and hide? He had a right to wander about in the park, just as much as anyone else! A man had the unalienable right to walk his cat in the park without having to flee because of his hateful neighbor! A hateful neighbor who, Anders noted without a shred of sympathy, was trying to avoid taking a bite of ice cream from the cone his female companion offered him. His heavily pregnant female companion. Perhaps his girlfriend? He thought a man as perpetually grumpy as Leto Darzi would never be able to make friends, let alone a lover. That thought only made Anders feel lonelier than ever. He shivered in the breeze and tugged his sweatshirt closer to his bony frame as Leto begrudgingly ate the ice cream his girlfriend shoved in his face. 

When Pounce finally exhausted himself and clouds covered the evening sun, Anders picked the cat up and headed home. He unclipped the harness and deposited Pounce in the cat tree. Pounce meowed and batted Anders on the nose with an orange striped paw. 

“Rude.” Anders remarked with a smile before bopping Pounce on his own pink nose and wandering over to his room. He pulled out a fresh set of clothes (a shirt and some sweat pants) and dumped his dirty scrubs in the laundry basket. He'd have to do laundry soon, Anders thought glumly before he staggered over to the bathroom and turned on the shower. 

Anders stood under the hot water for as long as he could before scrubbing down with a simple bar of soap and cheap shampoo. When he was in college he flirted with vanity, but looking good and being fashionable could get terribly expensive, especially when he wanted to spend his money on things like food and cat toys for Pounce. Anders lived in his scrubs and exercise clothes, and had a special love for his yoga pants. Not that he did yoga, he thought with a twinge of guilt, but they were just so damn comfortable he couldn't say no to the stretchy spandex. 

He stumbled out of the shower, dried himself off with a faded blue towel, and got dressed in those aforementioned yoga pants and a large soft shirt. He let his hair air dry and wandered back out to the kitchen to fix Pounce an early dinner of kibble and make something for himself. His leftovers were finished, so Anders made a fresh salad and fixed a mug of orange-spiced tea. He sat down at the table and nudged Pounce away from his food and drink. He ate in silence, occasionally pushing Pounce back or scratching the cat's chin. When Anders finished his meal he set the dishes in the sink and wandered back to his room. 

He hadn't meant to immediately turn on his computer. He meant to pick up a book and read. It wasn't a game night, or even a scheduled night for everyone to log onto chat and talk. But the walk was supposed to clear Anders's head and make him feel better, and it failed. To be perfectly fair, he was in good spirits until Anders spotted his neighbor and was swamped by envy and loneliness all at once. But, a sly voice inside him murmured, he didn't have to be lonely. As if by instinct, Anders signed into the chat room and sent a message to Ghost, asking if he was free to talk. A minute later Ghost responded, the noisy sound that indicated a voice chat chiming through the speakers and filling the room. Anders accepted the call instantly. 

“Hello, Justice.” Ghost said quietly. “I didn't think you'd be on tonight.”' 

“Didn't think I'd be either.” Anders replied. “It was, well, I was just sitting at home and I thought I'd pop in to say hello.” And didn't that sound pathetic, Anders thought bitterly. Too much of a loser to even try to go out somewhere. Just spending another night in with his cat instead of socializing. He was pathetic. 

“Justice?” 

“But I'm probably being annoying, I tend to do that, be annoying. God, everyone tells me I'm irritating and clingy, so feel free to tell me off.” Anders hastily added. 

“Justice.” 

“And I'm rambling now, aren't I? Jesus Christ, I just keep rambling and I can't stop, I'm such an idiot-” 

“Justice!” Ghost said sharply, and Anders fell silence. “Justice, I don't think you're annoying. Talkative, but not annoying.” 

“Seriously?” Anders felt his throat tighten. “You're not just saying that to make me feel better?” 

“I'm not in the habit of lying to make people feel better.” Ghost said, and something about his polite, kind words made Anders relax. Anders breathed in and out deeply. 

“Sorry for getting emotional.” Anders mumbled. “Had a bad day at work.” 

“Want to talk about it?” Ghost asked, and Anders was once again struck by how honestly _interested_ Ghost sounded. It was like he really cared about Anders's feelings and thoughts and experiences. 

“It was just bad.” Anders said quietly, a little bit embarrassed over his outburst. “I love working with animals, I really do! It's my life's work, you know? But it can be hard sometimes.” 

“How so?” 

“I hate seeing them sad and in pain.” Anders confessed. “I help as best as I can, but sometimes it just gets to me. And then one of my coworkers started bugging me, telling me to be more social, and then I got home to walk my cat around at the park and I saw my neighbor with his girlfriend, and I don't know, I just got anxious and had to go home. It's stupid. Really stupid.” 

“I'm not good with people either.” Ghost said, his low voice gentle. “That's why I work with plants. Much easier.” 

“I get anxious in crowds. And with strangers.” Anders confessed, brushing his damp hair out of his face. “I was shuffled around in the foster care system when I was growing up. My people skills aren't the best.” 

“I left home when I was sixteen.” Ghost said after a moment of silence. “I grew up poor and wanted... well, I wanted more. So I left. Didn't talk to my family, just left. Set off to make my fortune. Then I realized it wasn't what I wanted.” 

“What made you change your mind?” Anders asked. Ghost sounded lost in his memories. 

“Bad choices. Bad living conditions. Bad relationship.” Ghost chuckled, a bitter little sound that made Anders's heart sink. “It's not something I talk about.” 

“Sorry.” Anders mumbled. 

“Don't be.” Ghost sighed. “I suppose I didn't have the best day either.” 

“Oh?” 

“Met with my sister.” Ghost said, and Anders swore that Ghost was scowling. Something in his voice just made it so clear that he was upset. Anders wished he could comfort him somehow, reach through his screen and give the man a hug. What would it be like, Anders wondered. Ghost seemed so stand-offish at times, but was particularly warm with him. He'd probably be great at giving hugs, Anders mused. Fenris didn't expand on his bad day, but Anders wanted his new friend to feel comfortable with him. 

“Didn't go well, I'm guessing.” Anders was curious, but didn't want to push any further. Ghost chuckled, though, and Anders's heart fluttered in his chest. 

“It was... fine.” Ghost heaved a heavy sigh. “She's nosey. And a matchmaker.” 

“Oh.” Anders smiled. “So you've got a list of girls she wants you to call?” 

“Girls and boys.” Ghost said. “I'm bi.” 

“Really?” 

“Problem with it?” Ghost's warm voice turned a bit sharp at that. Defensive. 

“Oh no! No no no, it's just, well, didn't expect it.” Anders said hastily. “Me too. That is, I'm also bi. Most people assume gay, since my last serious relationship was with a man, but you know. Very bi.” 

“I've had the same problem. And my last boyfriend was- ugh.” Ghost snorted, as if he were putting all of his disgust into one single sound. “He thought bisexual meant slut. Didn't want me to talk to anyone, in case someone caught my interest and I... strayed. He was possessive. _Very_ possessive.” 

“What a bastard!” Anders hissed out. He encountered his fair share of bullies and assholes in his time, but at least no one ever threw his sexual orientation into his face like it was a _crime_! 

“He was more than that, but yes. I have a poor track record.” Ghost said. “My sister would love to change that, but...” 

“You need time to recover?” Anders suggested. 

“I knew you'd understand.” Ghost sounded relieved. “You always do, Justice.” 

“Anders.” Anders said automatically. 

“Hmm?” 

“Anders. That's my name.” 

“Hello, Anders.” Ghost said, his voice soft. Shy. “My name is Fenris.” 

“Fenris.” Anders let the name linger in his mouth, savoring the feel of it on his lips, the tip of his tongue. “That's a nice name.” 

“Hmmm.” Ghost, no, _Fenris_ hummed. “So your coworker was bothering you, Anders?” 

“Not _bothering_ me, exactly. More like he was being friendly. Invited me to his family dinner, tried to feed me. He's a great guy, really, but I wasn't feeling social.” Anders said with a smile. “And I really didn't want to make a pregnant woman cook for me, you know? I might suck at cooking, but I'm not that desperate!” 

“Ah.” Fenris laughed. “You don't cook?” 

“I'm terrible. I burn everything.” Anders sighed. “And I'm a vegetarian. Do you know how hard it is to find takeout that fits my diet?” 

“I see.” Fenris sounded amused. “It isn't difficult to cook vegetarian, if you know what you're doing.” 

“What about you? Can you cook?” Anders asked. 

“Yes. I enjoy it.” Fenris sounded relaxed and happy, and Anders let Fenris's voice take him miles away. 

“I have a decent vegetable lasagne recipe, and a couscous recipe with olives and chopped tomatoes and cucumbers. That one is easy if you're just starting out, and makes enough for leftovers.” Fenris said. “I could send you the recipe. Or call you sometime when you're trying to cook. Give you pointers.” 

“I'd like that, Fenris.” Anders murmured. Fenris cared about him, enough to give him recipes when Anders confessed he couldn't cook. Enough to offer to call and guide him through the process. He never had a friend who was so willing to do so much for him. “That's a lot to ask, though.” 

“We're friends.” Fenris said it so simply that Anders knew it was truth. “Of course I'd help you.” 

“You're a charmer.” Anders said with a grin. “I'd like that. Maybe I can video chat you sometime? Instruct me face-to-face?” 

“I... I'm not sure about that.” Fenris's voice was soft now. “I don't share my face online.” 

“Oh.” 

“I don't want to deceive you.” Fenris said. “I have never felt comfortable sharing myself with strangers. But after... after _him_ , I-” 

“I understand.” Anders said, and he did. He didn't like over sharing with practical strangers either. And Fenris seemed to have a bad history with this ex of his. If keeping his face a mystery gave him a sense of control, well, who was Anders to judge? He was glad Fenris liked talking to him. He could hardly ask for more without it being ridiculous and controlling. Anders didn't want to be too demanding and upfront. Fenris was his _friend_ first, and bizarre crush second. 

“I can send you pictures of the finished products, then.” Anders continued with a bit of forced cheer. “If that's alright with you, of course.” 

“Yes.” The relief in Fenris's voice filled Anders with joy. “Yes, I would like that.” 

“Done!” Anders replied. “I'm a bit cautious myself. Not that I'm a catfisher or anything, I just... well, people can be assholes, you know?” 

“Yes, I know.” Fenris said. “But are people particularly judgmental with you?” 

“I live in my scrubs. My cartoon animal print scrubs. Half of them are pink.” Anders confessed. That wasn't even the worst of it. He was so skinny and tall that he stood out wherever he went. One of his foster mothers called him a human beanpole, and Anders had to agree. 

“Sounds colorful.” Fenris remarked. 

“I like bright colors. It doesn't help that I'm tall. And skinny.” Anders sighed. “I sort of just attract attention wherever I go.” 

“Really? How tall?” Fenris asked. 

“Six foot two.” Anders replied, and Fenris whistled lowly. 

“Tall, then.” Fenris said it with a chuckle, and Anders's lips twitched into an amused smile as well. “Taller than me.” 

“I'm taller than most.” 

“I'm five foot eight. Tall for my family, but small by most standards.” 

“Awww, cute.” Anders cooed, and he was certain Fenris was rolling his eyes. “I could use you as an armrest!” 

“I'd break your arm if you tried.” Fenris said it with a laugh, though, so Anders knew it was only a joke. He joined in with Fenris's laughter and relaxed. 

“Sorry if I bothered you with my problems, Fenris.” Anders eventually said. He meant the apology from the very bottom of his heart, but Anders also knew that the guilt and embarrassment he felt had melted away into a quiet sort of reflection. Fenris didn't mind, because Fenris wasn't the sort of person who used guilt like a weapon. He was honest to a fault, and would have let Anders know if he was annoyed. 

“It was no bother.” Fenris said, confirming Anders's thoughts. “I like talking to you. You are... you are a good friend.” 

“You too, Fenris.” Anders confessed. “I, umm, I'll just let you go now. Talk to you tomorrow?” 

“We can watch the D&D stream again.” Fenris suggested. “I'll email you a recipe and I'll talk you through it.” 

“I'd like that. I'll talk to you then.” 

“Good night, Anders.” Fenris said, and Anders liked the way his name sounded on Fenris's lips, warm and soft and beautiful. 

“Good night, Fenris.” Anders replied, and he couldn't stop smiling after he said the words. It wasn't until Fenris was, well, _gone_ , that Anders felt alone again. 

Fenris. A strange name, something that flowed over the tongue and hissed through his teeth, a name that sounded strong. Capable of bearing many burdens. An actual name to put to a very real voice. Anders said it out loud, the two syllables heavy on his lips. It was a good name, attached to a beautiful, strong, deep voice. To think that that voice came out of a tiny man. Anders tried to imagine what Fenris looked like, but could not come up with anything beyond “short” and “muscular.” He wasn't even certain about the muscles. It was just an assumption based on Fenris's work as a gardener. You had to have some muscle to do that, right? 

Anders always had a fondness for muscles. 

His pants were feeling particularly tight. Anders shifted in his seat and tried to relieve the pressure in his groin, but was unsuccessful. Fenris's voice echoed in his head, beautiful and bold and soothing- he wanted that voice to keep him company. Give him orders. 

Anders wasn't even surprised when he collapsed in his bed with his yoga pants around his ankles and shirt forgotten on the floor. It had been so long, and the urge was too strong. He needed to let off steam and relax. He lay his head back against the pillows and reached his hand down, down across the flat plain of his stomach, the muscles twitching under his fingers, the hair trailing down rough against his palm. He gripped his cock in his hand and tightened his grip, tracing his thumb along the sensitive head. 

“Ah!” He gasped, and repeated the motion. Electricity shot through his spine, his mind fading away as he thought of little else beyond “more” and “faster!” Anders repeated the motion, and heard Fenris's voice in his head. 

“ _Yes. Good._ ” Fenris, at least the Fenris in his head, crooned in that wonderful voice of his. “ _Again, Anders._ ” Would Fenris's hands be rough from labor? Would his touch be hard, or gentle? What were his hands like, and how would they feel on his body? Anders wanted to know. 

“It's good.” Anders groaned as he changed his pace, going faster, hips bucking. “Please, please-” 

“ _You always understand me._ ” Imaginary Fenris said, and Anders moaned at the idea that he was the one who understood Fenris best. That Fenris trusted him, liked him, listened to him. Clever, funny, witty, wonderful Fenris thought Anders understood him best. 

“Please, please let me-” Anders moaned, and finally relaxed as his release spilled into his hand and over his stomach. He lay back, panting, trying to catch his breath. As the air came back his shame increased. Out of all the things he could have done, Anders couldn't believe that he masturbated to his friend's voice! That was- if he wasn't filthy and exhausted, Anders would have curled up in embarrassment. Instead he crawled out of bed and took a shower, berating himself all the while. 

Fenris was his _friend_ , not some sort of fantasy person he could release his pent up urges over. Fenris was someone he should treat with respect, not- ugh, he was such an idiot! Anders scrubbed at his skin with a bar of soap. How would he ever be able to face Fenris in their game ever again? How could he ever talk to him again. 

“It was just a fluke. A one time thing. You felt bad and he was nice to you.” Anders scolded himself. “It means nothing.” But Anders knew the truth, even as he washed his hair and scrubbed down with hot water and soap. 

It meant everything.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all for reading and/or leaving kudos, comments, and bookmarking this story! I appreciate it!

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading, leaving kudos, bookmarks, and/or comments on this story! I appreciate every one of them!


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